PRESENTED  TO  THE  LIBRARY 


PRINCETON  THEOLOGICHL  SEMINARY 


Ppofcssop  }^cnt»y  von  Dyke,  D.D.,  LiIi.D. 

^V    3241     .F5 
Fish,    Henry   Clay,    1820-187j 
History    and    repository   of 
pulpit    eloquence,     (deceas 


HISTOEY  AND  REPOSITORY 


PULPIT  ELOQUENCE, 

(DECEASED    DIVINES,) 

CONTAINIXa 

THE     MASTERPIECES 

OP 

BOSSUET,  BOURDALOUE,   MASSILLON,  FLECHIER,  ABBADIE,    TAYLOR,    BARROW, 

HALL,  WATSOX,    M'LAURIN,  CHALMERS,  EVANS,  EDWARDS,  DAVIES, 

JOHN    M.    MASON,    ETC.,  ETC., 

WITH    DISCOURSES 


CHKTSOSTOM,     BASIL,     GREGORY    NAZIANZEN,     AUGUSTINE,     ATHANASIUS,     AND     OTHERS 

AMONG  THE   "  FATHERS,"    AND   FROM  -WICKLIFFE,  LUTHER,  CALVIN,  MELANCTHON, 

KNOX,   LATIUER,    ETC.,    OF   THE    "  REFORMERS." 

ALSO, 

SIXTY    OTHER    CELEBRATED    SERMOXS, 

FBOM    AB    MANY    EMINENT    BIVINE8    IN    THE    GBEEK     AND    LATIN,     ENGLISH,     OEKMAN,     IEI8II,     FKENCU, 

BCOTTISn,  AMERICAN,  AND  WELSU    CnUKCHES  ;    A  LABGE   NCMBEB   OF  WHICH   HAVE  NOW,  FOR 

THE  FIEST  TIME,    BEEN    TRANSLATED.       THE   WHOLE   ABBANQED   IN   THEIE 

PEOPEB    ORDER,    AND     ACCOMPANIED    WITH 

HISTORICAL    SKETCHES    OF    PREACHING 

IN  THE  DIFFERENT   COUNTRIES   REPRESENTED,    AND 

BIOGRAPHICAL  AND  CRITICAL  NOTICES 

OF    THE     SEVEEAL     PREACHERS    AND     THEIR     DISCOURSES. 

V 

REV.  HENRY  C.  FISH, 

AUTHOR    OP  PREMIUM     ESSAY,     "PRIMITIVE     PIETY    REVIVED." 


IN    TWO    VOLUMES 
VOL.    II. 


NEW    YORK: 
PUBLISHED    BY    M.    W.    DODD, 

BRICK  CHURCH  CHAPEL,    CITY  HALL  SQUARE. 

1856. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856, 

By    M.    W.    DODD, 

In  the  Clerk's  OfBce  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  Tork. 


STEREOTYPED    BT  PRINTED    BY 

THOMAS  B.  SMITH,  BILLIN  &  BROTHER, 

82  &  84  Beekman  Street,  N.  Y,  20  North  William  St. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  II. 


THE    FRENCH    PULPIT. 

PAOB 

HISTOKICAL  SKETCH 1 

XLV. 
CALVIN. 

BEARING  THE  REPROACH  OF  CHRIST.— Hebrews,  xiii.  13 12 

XLVI. 
BOSSUET. 

FUNERAL  ORATION  OVER  THE  PRINCE  OP  COND^.— Judges,  vi.  12-16  .     23 

XLVII. 
BOURDALOUE. 

THE  PASSION  OP  JESUS  CHRIST.— Luke,  xxiii.  27,  23 46 

XLVIII. 
FLECHIER. 

FUNERAL  ORATION  OVER  MARSHAL  TURENNE.— 1  Maccabees,  ix .    .    .     70 

XLIX. 
LA    RUE. 

THE  DYING  SINNER.— Luke,  vii.  12 80 

L. 

FENELON. 

THE  SAINT'S  CONVERSE  WITH  GOD.— 1  Thessalootans,  v.  17 97 

LI. 
ABBADIE. 

THE  SACRIFICE  OF  ABRAHAM.— Genesis,  xxii.  10 105 

LII. 
SUPERVILLE. 

CHRIST  THE  ONLY  "WAY  OF  SALVATION.— John,  xiv.  6 121 

LIU. 
MASSILLON. 

THE  SMALL  ITUMBER  OP  THE  SAVED.— Luke,  iv.  27 138 


iy  CONTENTS    OF    VOLUME    II. 

LIV. 
SAURIN. 

THE  NATURE  AND  CONTROL  OF  THE  PASSIONS.— 1  Peter,  ii.  1    ...     157 

LV. 
VINET. 

THE  MYSTERIES  OF  CHRISTIANITY.— 1  Corinthians,  ii.  9 183 


THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT. 

HISTORICAL  SKETCH 195 

LVI. 
JOHN    KNOX. 

THE  SOURCE  AND  BOUNDS  OF  KINGLY  POWER.— Isaiah,  xxvi.  13-16    .  207 

LYII. 
RALPH    ERSKINE. 

THE  GATHERING  OF  THE  PEOPLE  TO  SHTLOH.— Genesis,  xlix.  10   .    .    .  229 

LVIII. 
JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

GLORYING  IN  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.— Galatians,  tL  4 244 

LIX. 
ROBERT    WALKER. 

THE  HEAVY  LADEN  INVITED  TO  CHRIST.— Matthew,  xL  28 271 

LX. 
HUGH    BLAIR. 

THE  HOUR  AND  THE  EVENT  OF  ALL  TIME.— John,  xviL  1 282 

LXL 

JOHN    LOGAN. 

THE  CHRISTIAN'S  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH.— 1  Corinthians,  xr.  55-57  .    .  294 

LXH. 
THOMAS    M'CRIE. 

THE  PRAYER  OF  THE  THIEF  ON  THE  CROSS.— Luke,  xxiii.  42    .     .    .    .302 

LXIH. 
THOMAS    CHALMERS. 

THE  EXPULSIVE  POWER  OF  A  NEW  AFFECTION.— 1  John,  iL  15    .    .    .320 


CONTENTS    OF    VOLUME    II.  y 

LXIV. 
EDWARD  IRVING. 

PAGE 

PREPAEATION  FOR  CONSULTING  THE  ORACLES  OF  GOD.— John,  v.  39  .  336 


THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT. 

HISTORICAL  SKETCH 351 

LXV, 
THOMAS    HOOKER. 

THE  ACTIVITY  OF  FAITH.— Romans,  iv.  12 368 

LXVI. 
COTTON    MATHER, 

THE  JOYFUL  SOUND  OF  SALVATION.— Psalm  Ixxxix.  15 384 

LXVII. 
JONATHAN    EDWARDS. 

SINNERS  IN  THE  HANDS  OF  AN  ANGRY  GOD.— Deuteronomy,  xxviL  35 .  395 

LXVIII. 
SAMUEL    DAVIES. 

THE  COMPASSION  OF  CHRIST  TO  WEAK  EELIEVERS.— Matthew,  xu.  20 .  410 

LXIX. 
JOHN    LIVINGSTON. 

THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  PROPHETIC  ANGEL.— Revelations,  xiv.  6,  7    .    .    .  425 

LXX. 
WILLIAM    WHITE. 

THE  SIN  OF  DAVID  IN  THE  CASE  OF  URIAH.— 2  Samuel,  xii.  1  .    .     .    ,443 

LXXI. 

JOHN    LELAND. 

THE   JARRINGS  OF  HEAVEN   RECONCILED   BY  THE   BLOOD  OP  THE 

CROSS.— Colossians,  i.  20 454 

LXXH. 
JONATHAN    MAXCY. 

A  PRACTICAL  BELIEF  IN  THE  DIVINE  EXISTENCE.— Romans,  i.  20    .    .  463 

Lxxm. 

EDWARD    D.    GRIFFIN. 

THE  KINGDOM  OF  CHRIST.— Colossians,  i.  16 471 


Vi  CONTENTS    OF   VOLUME   II. 

LXXIV. 
JOHN    M.    MASON. 

PAOB 

THE  GOSPEL  FOR  THE  POOR— Luke,  vii.  22 487 

LXXV. 
WILLIAM    STAUGHTON. 

GOD  DWELLING  AMONG  MEN.— 1  Kixgs,  viii.  27 505 

LXXYI. 
GREGORY    T.    BEDELL. 

THE  SUBLIME  ISSUE  OF  THE  WORK  OP  RELIGION.— Nehemah,  vi.  3 .     .516 

Lxxvn. 

STEPHEN    OLIN. 

FAITH  IN  CHRIST  THE  GREAT  WANT  OF  THE  SOUL.— John,  xiv.  1    .    .  528 

LXXVIII. 
JOHN    SUMMERFIELD. 

THE  HEAVENLY  INHERITANCE.— 3  Petee,  i.  11 540 

LXXIX. 

BELA    B.    EDWARDS. 

THE  HUNDRED  AND  THIRTY-NINTH  PSALM 550 

LXXX. 
ALBERT    B.    DOD. 

THE  RESPONSIBILITY  OF  MAN  FOR  HIS  BELIEF.— Proteebs,  xiv.  12  .     .  568 


THE    WELSH    PULPIT. 

HISTORICAL  SKETCH 577 

LXXXI. 
DAVID    CHARLES. 

CHRIST  ALL  AND  IN  ALL.— Colossians,  iii.  11 584 

LXXXIL 

CHRISTMAS    EVANS. 

THE  FALL  AND  RECOVERY  OF  MAN.— Romans,  v.  15 596 

Lxxxm. 

JOHN    ELIAS. 

THE  TWO  FAMILIES.— 1  John,  v.  19 605 


luttlj  0f  i\t  Jfrnul]  ^wlpit. 


THE    FRENCH   PULPIT. 


In  the  fifth  century,  Clovis  I.,  a  Pagan  King  of  France,  fell  in  love 
with  Clotilda,  a  Christian  princess  of  the  house  of  Burgundy,  who  agreed 
to  marry  him  only  on  condition  of  his  becoming  a  Christian,  to  which  he 
consented,  a.d,  491.  The  king,  however,  delayed  the  performance  of 
this  condition  till  five  years  after  his  marriage,  when,  being  engaged  in 
a  desperate  battle,  and  having  reason  to  fear  the  total  defeat  of  his  army, 
he  hfted  up  his  eyes  unto  heaven,  and  put  up  this  prayer,  "  God  of  Queen 
Clotilda !  grant  me  the  victory,  and  I  vote  to  be  baptized,  and  thence- 
forth to  viorship  no  other  God  but  Thee!''"'  He  obtained  the  victory, 
and  at  his  return  was  baptized,  at  Rheims,  December  25th,  496.  His 
sister,  and  more  than  three  thousand  of  his  subjects  followed  his  example, 
and  Christianity  became  the  professed  religion  of  France.* 

Pre\'ious  to  this,  and  probably  by  some  of  the  Aj^ostles  themselves, 
had  Christianity  been  introduced  into  France.  Eminent  men  had 
preached  the  pure  doctrine,  and  sealed  it  with  their  blood ;  and  many 
Christian  societies  had  been  formed.  That  now  introduced,  was  only  a. 
'•'•professed''''  religion.  Neither  the  king  nor  the  subjects  were  cleansed 
by  the  bajrtismal  waters.  Their  morals  were  stiU  corrupt ;  and  while  Chris- 
tianity gained  numbers,  and  wealth,  and  pomp,  and  worldly  influence,, 
by  union  with  the  State,  she  lost  her  purity,  and  simplicity,  and  power.. 
"  A  virgin  before,  she  became  a  prostitute  now."  The  nomuial  religion,, 
henceforth,  was  scarcely  better  than  the  very  paganism  which  it  had  sup- 
planted, and  the  pulpit  had  no  more  power  to  reform  society  than  had 
been  possessed  by  the  altars  and  images  of  the  idolatrous  heathen.  Pre-^ 
vailing  corruption  ensued,  and  the  evil  waxed  worse  and  worse,  until,  at 
the  Reformation,  where  sin  had  abounded,  grace  did  much  more  abound.. 

It  is  true  that  the  defection  was  not  complete.  In  the  obscure  fast- 
nesses of  some  of  the  mountnin  districts  of  France,  pious  souls,  in  an  un- 
written but  bright  succession,  ii m  the  earliest  periods  downward  to  the' 
time  of  the  Reformation,  had  'liuimed  the  flickering  lamp  of  evangelical 
truth.  Unknown  by  the  world,  and  unnoticed  by  the  great,  there  were 
doubtless  many  strong  and  noble-minded  preachers,  who,  like  Peter 
Waldo,  of  the  twelfth  century,  contended  earnestly  for  the  faith  once 

*  Robinson's  Memoirs  of  the  Reformation  in  France. 


2  THE    FEENCH    PULPIT. 

delivered  to  the  saints.  These,  however,  were  but  dun  and  distant  lights 
in  the  surroimdmg  darkness.  The  chief  ministers  of  religion  had  become 
temporal  princes,  and  the  high-priest  had  his  court,  his  council,  his  em- 
bassadors, and  his  army.  The  common  clergy  had  acquired  wealth,  and, 
neglecting  their  proper  duties,  were  occupied  with  their  pleasures  and 
their  estates.  Pi'eachmg  had  degenerated  into  vulgar  ribaldry,  coarse 
buftbonery,  and  ignorant  or  willful  wresting  of  the  Scriptures,  to  fxvor 
selfish  designs :  and  the  divinity  of  the  schools  was  made  up  of  idle  distinc- 
tions, and  senseless  axioms,  and  the  rules  of  casuistry  and  low  morality. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  ministry,  and  such  the  character  of  the 
preachhig,  when  the  leaven  of  the  Reformation,  which  had  been  diifused 
from  Germany  to  Geneva,  began  to  spread  in  France,  about  the  year 
1520.  A  few  years  after  this  Calvm  made  his  appearance  on  the  stage, 
persecution  reared  its  demon-head,  and  the  Reformed  Church  of  France 
had  the  honor  of  wearmg  the  crown  of  martyrdom.  Leclerc,  the  first 
leader  of  the  Church  at  Meaux,  and  the  first  French  martyr,  was  arrested 
and  cruelly  whipped,  then  branded  with  a  red-hot  iron  on  the  forehead, 
then  banished  the  town,  and  finally  executed  in  1524.  The  peal  of  the 
great  bell  of  Notre  Dame,  at  Paris,  announced  the  burning  alive  of  two 
other  ministers,  the  year  following ;  and  thus  the  work  of  persecution 
went  on.  But  the  work  of  the  Lord  Jesus  advanced  also  ;  giving  to  the 
words  of  old  Chrysostom  a  most  brilliant  illustration :  "  O  man,  there  is 
nothing  mightier  than  the  Church.  The  waves  do  not  dash  in  pieces  the 
rocks,  but  they  themselves  dissolve  into  foam.  Cease  the  strife,  lest  it 
make  thine  own  strength  to  cease.  Wage  not  war  against  heaven.  Yie 
not  with  God.     Heaven  exists  for  the  sake  of  the  Church." 

The  fortimes  of  the  French  pulpit,  from  this  time  onward  to  the 
modern  period,  it  is  not  necessary  mmutely  to  trace,  as  they  were,  ia 
many  respects,  common  Avith  those  of  the  German  pulpit,  which  are  else- 
where given  somewhat  in  detail.  The  salient  points  in  its  history  can 
only  be  noticed.  The  leaduig  events  affecting  it,  which  occurred  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  were  the  royal  smiles  of  the  pious  Queen  of  Navarre, 
who  made  her  court  a  covert  from  the  storm,  "  and  supplied  France  with 
preachers,  and  the  exiles  of  Geneva  with  money ;"  its  violent  shocks  from 
the  cruelty  of  Henry  II.,  who  succeeded  Francis  his  father,  in  1547  ;  and 
from  the  religious  wars  in  the  last  half  of  the  century,  in  which  the  Prince 
of  Conde  and  the  King  of  Navarre  were  leaders  upon  one  side,  and  the 
Guises  upon  the  other ;  the  horrible  slaughter  of  the  Huguenots  on  St. 
Bartholomew's  day,  August,  1572,  in  which  five  thousand  people  in  Paris 
alone  were  massacred,  and  in  the  provinces  around,  not  less  than  twenty- 
five  thousand,  many  of  whom  were  pious  and  excellent  Protestant 
preachers.  The  Edict  of  Nantes,  in  1598,  happily  concluded  these  barbar- 
ities, but  as  they  were  progressmg,  the  French  pulpit  had  presented  a 
most  deplorable  aspect.  It  was  filled  with  political  preachers,  whose 
hearts  were  burning  with  hate  toward  the  Protestants,  and  whose  tongues 


THE    FRENCH    PULPIT.  3 

were  drawn  swords.  France  was  absolutely  at  the  mercy  of  these 
preachers.  The  pulpit  was  superior  to  the  throne,  and  its  angry  occu- 
pants, whose  continual  cry  was,  "  Rob  !  rob !  slay !  slay  !"  urged  on  the 
king,  who,  if  he  had  the  disposition,  had  not  the  fortitude  to  withstand 
their  clamor. 

The  seventeenth  century  opened  auspiciously  for  the  interests  of 
Protestantism  in  France.  The  Edicts  of  Nantes,  which  was  declared 
perpetual  and  irrevocable^  among  its  ninety-two  articles,  contained  pro- 
visions securmg  free  toleration  to  the  Protestants,  The  churches,  by 
consequence,  flourished ;  the  universities  were  adorned  with  learned 
and  pious  professors,  such  as  Casaubon,  Daille,  and  others ;  and  the 
number  of  good  pastors  and  able  preachers,  was  being  rapidly  aug- 
mented. The  death  of  Kmg  Henry,  by  the  hand  of  the  deluded  Ra- 
vaillac,  was  a  severe  blow  upon  the  rising  faith ;  the  succession  of  Louis 
XIII.  in  1610,  who  proved  to  be  the  mere  tool  of  his  flatterers,  and  his 
recall  of  the  Jesuits  from  their  banishment,  were  events  more  threat- 
enmg  still ;  and  the  disaster  was  consummated  by  the  domination  over 
the  Reformed  Churches  of  the  infamous  Richelieu,  whom  the  king  had 
made  prime  minister  for  publishing  a  scandalous  libel  against  the  Protest- 
ants. The  attempts  of  Richelieu  to  crush  the  adherents  of  the  Reformed 
doctrines,  reduced  the  French  Protestant  pulpit  to  a  state  of  impotency, 
which  only  needed  the  series  of  cruelties  in  the  succeeding  reign,  to 
render  it  well-nigh  complete. 

About  the  year  1670  the  bloody  hand  of  persecution  began  its  fear- 
ful work,  in  good  eai'uest,  for  the  extermination  of  the  faithful.  The  sack- 
ing of  Montauban,  the  prohibition  of  the  Protestant  clergy  from  exercis- 
ing discipline  over  their  churches  or  publishing  books,  and  finally,  fi'om 
preaching  at  all — these  acts  Avere  the  prelude  of  the  Revocation  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes  in  1685,  which  prepared  the  way  for  the  gx^xi(^  finale  of 
the  bloody  scene — the  rack,  the  dungeon,  the  scafibld,  the  fetters,  the 
sword,  the  red-hot  pincers,  the  scalding  lead,  the  half-roasted  victims, 
the  cut,  the  slashed,  the  wounded,  the  pierced,  the  bruised,  the  stretched, 
the  hanged,  the  massacred,  and  the  fleeing  fi'om  the  kingdom  of  eight 
hundred  thousand  individuals,  whose  consciences  forbade  connection 
with  the  Romish  hierarchy.  So  much  for  the  revocation  of  an  "  irrevoc- 
able'''' treaty.  So  much  for  Jesuitical  policy,  and  the  so-called  religion 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  whose  "  Supreme  Head,"  m  a  letter  to 
King  Louis,  thanked  him  for  his  zeal  and  ptett  in  extirpating  heresy  / 
and  ordered  a  Te  Deura  to  be  sung,  in  token  of  grateful  praise. 

Thus  closed  the  seventeenth  century.  During  the  eighteenth,  the 
line  of  Protestant  preaching  can  not  be  traced.  Teachers  of  the  true 
faith,  there  were,  for  four  hnndred  thousand  Protestants  remained,  not- 
withstanding the  efforts  for  their  entire  extermination ;  and  they  con- 
tinued to  assemble,  m  spite  of  threats  and  punishment,  and  like  those 
of  old,  sing  Psalms  to  Christ  as  unto  God,     But  they  had  no  pastors. 


4  THE    FRENCH    PULPIT. 

and  the  occasional  visits  of  men  of  apostolic  zeal,  who  periled  their  lives 
to  bi'eak  the  bread  of  life  to  the  destitute,  furnished  most  of  the  Protest- 
ant preaching  which  they  heard.  Romanism  was  in  its  glory.  It  was 
trimnphant.  It  was  never  before  so  much  respected,  and  never  will  be 
again. 

The  reign  of  the  "  graxd  monaech,"  Louis  XIV.,  which  covered 
the  last  half  of  the  previous  century,  covers  well-nigh  the  first  quarter 
of  this.  It  was  the  Angustan  age  of  France.  In  military  glory,  in 
literary  genius,  in  valuable  discoveries,  and  the  fine  arts,  no  other 
period  can  boast  of  equal  brilliancy :  for  it  was  the  age  of  Conde  and 
Turenne,  of  Corneille  and  Moliere  and  Racine,  of  Pascal  and  La  Fon- 
taine and  Montesquieu,  of  Malebranche  and  Boileau  and  Fontenelle, 
of  Bourdaloue  and  Bossuet  and  Fenelon  and  Flechier  and  La  Rue, 
and  others,  scarcely  less  distinguished.  It  was  the  age,  also,  of  the 
highest  kind  of  eloquence ;  not  of  the  bar,  or  the  pojmlar  assembly,  but 
of  the  pulpit.  Considered  as  the  product  of  literary  art.,  merely,  the 
sermon  never  attained  to  such  perfection  as  during  the  time  of  which  we 
speak.  Pulpit  eloqiience  never  won  such  brilliant  achievements.  The 
French  sermon  of  tliis  period  was  as  distinctly  marked  in  the  matter  of 
rhetorical  finish,  as  was  the  Greek  drama  in  the  days  of  its  glory.  The 
pulpit  was  the  grand  point  of  attraction.  Around  it  gathered  rank, 
and  lashion,  and  royalty,  and  the  greatest  scholars,  and  critics,  and  art- 
ists, all  equally  thrilled,  and  astonished,  and  delighted.  This  Vv^onderful 
improvement  in  pulpit  oratory,  by  which  it  was  raised  from  the  florid, 
trashy,  affected  kind,  to  its  greatest  height  of  rhetorical  perfection,  is 
attributable,  mainly  to  Bourdaloue.  To  him  properly  belongs  the  glory 
of  reforming  the  French  pulpit.  He  was  speedily  followed  by  Bossuet, 
and  others,  in  the  improved  mode  of  preaching,  and  for  half  a  century 
the  French  Catholic  preachers  challenge  the  admiration  of  all  ages. 

But  the  splendid  age  of  Louis  XIV.  ended  in  exhaustion  and  gloom. 
The  heart  of  the  nation  was  not  soimd.  How  could  it  have  been,  ia 
the  fearful  absence  of  Gospel  truth  ?  for,  with  some  exceptions,  the 
preaching  of  the  times,  though  brilliant,  was  illy  adapted  to  reform  men 
by  leadmg  to  a  saving  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Without,  there  was  beauty  ;  within,  there  was  corruption  and  decay. 
The  Church  and  State  declined  together.  All  the  glories  of  the  seven- 
teenth and  the  earlier  part  of  the  eighteenth  centuries,  passed  away,  to 
be  succeeded  by  weakness  and  disorder.  A  spirit  of  skepticism  had 
been  engendered  by  the  tyranny  of  the  king,  and  the  immorality  and 
hypocrisy  of  the  court.  The  awful  barbarities  to  which  innocent  Chris- 
tians had  been  subjected,  at  the  instigation  of  the  "  Holt  Catholic, 
THE  Apostolic  Church,"  acting  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  had  awak- 
ened disgust  at  the  very  name  of  religion,  and  prepared  a  most  recep- 
tive soil  for  the  seeds  of  German  infidelity,  which,  about  this  time,  were 
scattered  in  France.     In  vain  were  the' efforts  of  the  pious  Jansenists  who 


THE    FRENCH    PULPIT.  5 

sought  to  restore  the  doctrines  of  grace  ;  in  vain  the  teaching  of  Quiet- 
ism, with  Madame  Guyon  as  its  leading  spirit,  aiming  to  introduce  into 
the  Catholic  communion  a  spiritual  religion.  The  downward  tendency 
was  too  strong,  and  the  whole  nation  plunged  into  the  horrible  abyss  of 
irreligion  and  blood,  in  the  Revolution  of  1V89. 

We  must  not  look  for  pulpit  eloquence  in  France  subsequent  to  the 
close  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Indeed  its  glory  departed  with  the 
death  of  the  immortal  triumvirate,  Bossuet,  Bourdaloue,  Massillon,  The 
great  Catholic  preachers  had  no  successors.  And  how  was  it  possible 
for  learning  and  eloquence  to  flourish  in  the  ranks  of  the  Protestants, 
when  their  history  is  but  a  series  of  sufferings,  from  disasters  and  cruel 
oppression?  It  was  not  till  the  famous  edict  of  Louis  XVI.,  in  1*787, 
that  their  liberties  were  legally  restored  ;  and  even  then,  they  were  iU- 
treated  in  the  exercise  of  their  religious  rights.  The  National  Assem- 
bly in  1789,  decreed  that  "no  one  be  troubled  for  his  opinions,  even  of 
a  religious  kind,  provided  that  their  publication  do  not  disturb  the  pub- 
He  order  estabhshed  by  law ;"  but  yet  nothing  was  effectually  done  to 
guarantee  full  liberty  of- worship. 

During  the  reign  of  the  sanguinary  Robespierre,  well  termed  the 
Reign  of  Terror,  every  form  of  religion  Avas  equally  suppressed ;  and  Infi- 
delity had  every  thing  its  own  way.  The  simple  worship  of  God  in  the 
Spirit,  was  confounded  with  the  senseless  worship  of  the  Virgin  Mary 
and  Canonized  Saints,  and  the  public  worshij)  of  both  was  suppressed, 
until  the  partial  relief  afforded  by  the  act  of  toleration  in  the  third  year 
of  the  Republic.  Nobly  did  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  in  the  year  1804, 
maintain  the  rights  of  conscience,  in  his  reply  to  M.  Martin,  President 
of  the  Consistory  of  Geneva,  in  words  worthy  to  be  had  in  evei'lastrng 
remembrance :  "  I  wish  it  to  he  understood  that  my  intention  and  my 
firm  determination  are  to  maintain  liberty  of  loorsMp.    The  empire 

OF    THE    LAW    ENDS    WHERE    THE    EMPIRE    OP    THE    CONSCIENCE    BEGINS. 

Neitlier  the  lato  nor  the  iwince  m,ust  infringe  upon  this  empire.''''  And 
by  his  several  decrees  in  favor  of  Protestants,  and  the  restoring  to  them 
of  their  college  at  Montauban,  suppressed  at  the  revocation  of  the  Edict 
of  Nantes,  did  he  evince  the  sincerity  of  his  declaration.  But  eleven 
years  from  the  time  of  uttering  those  words  Napoleon  was  finally  ban- 
ished to  St.  Helena ;  the  House  of  the  Bourbons  was  restored,  and  that 
very  year  saw  the  inhuman  murder  of  about  four  hundred  Protestants 
at  Nimes,  and  the  flight  of  ten  thousand  others  to  the  mountains  of 
Cevennes.  We  need  not  trace  the  history  futher.  Let  it  suffice  to  say 
that  at  that  time  (1815),  the  number  of  Protestant  ministers  in  France 
was  only  about  two  hundred  and  fifty. 

But  though  enveloped  in  flames,  the  bush  has  not  been  consumed.  Of 
late,  there  has  been  a  revival  of  popery  in  France :  but  there  has  been  a 
greater  revival  of  the  primitive  fxith.  The  two  great  divisions  in  the 
Protestant  ranks,  are  the  Lutheran  and  the  Reformed  Churches.     The 


6  THE    FRENCH    PULPIT. 

former  bear  the  German  tyjie  in  doctrme,  and  have  about  two  hundred 
and  fifty  ministers.  The  latter,  with  a  ministry  of  some  six  hundred, 
are  the  descendants  of  the  old  Huguenots.  The  clergy  of  both  these 
churches,  as  well  as  those  of  the  Roman  CathoHc  order,  receive  then-  sup- 
port from  the  National  budget.  The  Confederated  Dissenting  Churches 
of  the  Evangelical  Union,  an  association  similar  to  the  Free  Church  of 
Scotland,  refusing  to  receive  state  support,  embrace  some  twenty-five  or 
thirty  preachers  ;  and  there  are  about  the  same  number  in  the  Uncon- 
federated  or  Independent  Churches.  The  number  of  preachers  in  the 
French  Methodist  Church,  is  also  about  the  same.  Besides  these  there 
are  others  in  less  extensive  connections.  The  doctrinal  belief  of  the 
present  Protestant  ministers  of  France,  varies  widely ;  from  that  of  the 
Liberals,  on  the  extreme  of  Rationalism  (the  bane  of  French  Protestant- 
ism), to  the  Evangelicals,  at  the  other  extreme  of  BibHcism.  On  one 
point,  at  least,  they  all  agree ;  the  importance  of  rescuing  the  people 
from  the  power  of  the  Romish  priesthood,  to  which  they  are  profoundly 
hostile.  It  is  supposed  that  there  are  about  seven  hundred  mhiisters,  at 
this  time,  in  France,  who  are  essentially  evangehcal  in  doctrine,  many 
of  whom  are  burning  and  shining  lights. 

M.  de  Vericour,  in  his  work  on  French  literature,  remarks  that  "  the 
eloquence  of  the  pulpit  in  France  is  completely  null."  The  remark  is 
true  in  the  main,  but  should  certainly  be  qualified  in  favor  of  some  few 
preachers  of  acknowledged  attainments  in  pulpit  oratory,  both  in  the 
Protestant  and  Roman  Catholic  connections.  The  general  character  of 
the  French  school  of  preaching  resembles  that  of  the  German,  and  is 
quite  unlike  that  of  the  English.  The  English  preachers  disdain  the 
arts  of  oratory,  the  French  revel  in  animated  diction,  and  graceful  gest- 
ure. The  former  are  sohd,  the  latter  ornamental.  The  former  delve  in 
theological  lore,  and  feed  the  imderstanding ;  the  latter  elaborate  elo- 
quent paragraphs,  to  rouse  up  the  sensibilities,  and  kindle  into  a  blaze  the 
feelings.  The  former  have  more  of  fight,  the  latter  more  of  heat.  Both 
have  their  faults.  If  the  former  are  instructive,  they  are  also  too  dull 
and  heavy.  If  the  latter  are  animatmg  and  soul-stirring,  they  are  some- 
times too  showy  and  bombastic.  If  the  former  are  wise  in  having  an 
eye  to  the  intellect,  and  the  substance,  they  are  unwise  in  losing  sight 
of  the  heart  and  the  manner.  If  the  latter  defight  the  imagination,  and 
play  skillfully  upon  the  strings  of  the  passions,  it  were  wisdom,  also,  to 
imfold  great  principles,  and  lay  a  broad  and  deep  foundation  for  a  sub- 
stantial and  vigorous  Christian  life. 

Hence  both  the  English  and  the  French  schools  of  pulpit  eloquence 
should  be  studied.  Some  of  the  dryness  of  even  the  American  jnilpit 
could  well  be  dispensed  with,  for  more  of  the  onction  of  the  French.  It 
is  equally  unwise  either  to  copy,  or  to  ignore,  the  one  or  the  other.  Let 
the  excellences  of  both  be  sought  after.  Perhaps  the  present  tendency 
is  to  forget  that  men  have  sentunents  and  feelings  :  that  there  are  secret 


THE    FRENCH    PULPIT.  7 

springs  in  the  soul  which  an  enchanting  oratory  may  wisely  take  advan- 
tage of,  in  impressing  Scripture  truth.  Should  a  sermon  boar  the  marks 
of  the  file  and  the  cold-chisel  only?  Would  it  not  be  well  tliat  it 
gave  evidence  of  having  been  "  fabricated  in  fire,"  by  coming  forth  all 
"  glowing  and  sjjarkling  from  the  Uving  furnace  within  ?"  And  one 
means  of  acquiring  this  is  an  mcreased  familiarity  with  the  German  and 
French  style  of  preaching. 

The  peculiarities  of  this'  school  are  quite  fully  presented  by  a  com- 
petent hand,*  in  the  following  delineation  of  the  leading  characteristics 
of  the  evangelical  French  preachers,  witli  which  we  conclude  our 
sketch : 

"  Their  sermons  are  almost  always  of  a  very  moderate  length.  It  is 
seldom  that  they  exceed  forty-five  minutes.  We  never  heard  one — and 
we  have  heard  many — which  exceeded  an  hour.  Their  prayers,  too,  are 
uniformly  short,  very  sim^jle,  and  direct.  And  here  we  may  say  that 
the  order  of  the  service  in  the  Reformed  French  churches  (and  the 
same  order  prevails  in  the  churches  of  the  Ai;gsburg  Confession,  or 
Lutheran  denomination),  is  as  follows.  1.  The  invocation  of  the  bless- 
ing of  God  on  the  service.  2.  The  reading  of  the  Ten  Commandments. 
3.  The  Confession,  a  beautiful  prayer,  which  is  read  in  all  their  churches. 
It  is  taken  from  their  Liturgy.  It  is,  as  its  title  indicates,  a  confession 
of  sin.  It  is  short,  simple,  and,  we  think,  superior  to  the  Confession  in 
the  Liturgy  of  the  Episcopal  service,  beautiful  as  that  is.  4.  The  sing- 
ing of  a  hymn.  5.  The  reading  of  a  portion  of  the  Scriptures.  6.  An 
extemporary  prayer.  7.  The  sermon.  8.  A  hymn.  9.  A  prayer — usu- 
ally taken  from  the  Liturgy,  and  embraces  petitions  for  the  king  and 
queen,  the  other  members  of  the  royal  family,  and  the  ofiicers  and  mem- 
bers of  the  government  in  general.  10.  The  benediction ;  which  is 
followed  by  a  word  of  exhortation  to  the  j^eople  to  remember  the  poor^ 
as  they  retire.  This  leads  to  a  collection  for  their  benefit,  which  is  made 
by  depositmg,  by  all  who  choose  to  give  any  thing,  their  contributions 
in  boxes  at  the  doors  of  the  church. 

"  This  is  a  brief  view  of  the  order  of  the  services  which  is  usually 
followed  in  the  Protestant  churches  and  chapels  in  Franco.  We  have 
often  been  struck  with  the  just  symmetry  which  prevails  in  all  their 
public  services.  Prayers,  hymns,  and  somions  are  almost  always  of 
about  the  proper  length.  And  the  whole  order  of  exercises  is  gone 
through  with  so  much  promptitude  and  vivacity  that  there  is  seldom 
room  for  ennxd. 

"  A  second  characteristic  of  evangelical  French  preaching  is  simplic- 
ity of  style.  The  sermons  of  the  greater  part,  by  far,  of  the  evangehcal 
ministers  of  France  are  distinguished  by  a  freedom  of  useless  repetitions, 
and  from  any  thing  approaching  to  what  may  be  called  grandiloquence. 
This  is  fir  from  being  the  case  with  French  waiters  in  other  departments 
*  Rev.  Dr.  Baird,  in  Bib.  Repos.  1839. 


8  THE    FEENCH    PULPIT. 

of  literature.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  fault  which  is  exceedingly  com- 
mon among  them,  to  indulge  in  pompous  and  airy  descriptions,  in  con- 
ceits and  in  hon  mots,  which  render  the  style  obscure  and  destroy  its 
simplicity.  But  though  this  fault  is  of  frequent  occurrence  among  writ- 
ers of  France,  it  can  not  be  charged  ujjon  the  evangelical  preaching  of 
that  country.  On  the  contrary,  their  sermons  are  clothed  in  a  singular 
and  beautiful  simplicity  of  style.  Nothing  superfluous,  nothing  forced 
or  unnatural  appears  in  them. 

"  A  tliird  characteristic  of  evangelical  preaching  is  what  may  be 
called  directness  of  style.  By  this  we  mean  that  the  sentiment  or  idea 
which  the  speaker  or  writer  wishes  to  express,  is  set  forth  in  as  few 
words  as  possible.  The  best  French  writers  have  very  much  of  this 
quahty  of  style,  and  express  their  meaning  with  almost  epigrammatic 
brevity.  There  is  great  beauty  in  this,  if  it  be  not  carried  too  far. 
Nothmg  suits  the  French  nature  better  than  to  express  an  idea  with 
such  brevity  and  concentrated  force,  that  it  may  strike  upon  the  mind 
with  the  unexpected  suddenness  and  force  of  a  flash  of  lightning.  There 
is  a  good  deal  of  this  directness  in  the  style  of  the  best  French  preach- 
ers, though  it  is  not  usually,  in  their  case,  carried  so  far  as  to  have  the 
appearance  of  bemg  the  result  of  a  studied  efibrt,  as  it  so  often  and  so 
obviously  is,  in  the  case  of  many  other  writers. 

"  The  fourth  characteristic  of  evangelical  French  preaching  is  what 
the  French  call  onction.  It  is  not  very  easy  to  give  the  reader  a  definite 
idea  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  onction,  when  thus  employed.  As  the 
word  in  its  original  sense  denotes  "  ointment,"  and  the  "  act  of  anoint- 
ing," it  would  seem  difiicult  to  trace  any  analogy  between  its  meaning, 
and  any  conceivable  character  of  eloquence,  unless  it  be  that  of  snioothr 
ness,  which  is  far  from  being  the  idea  which  the  French  attach  to  the 
word  onction,  as  ajipUed  to  speaking  or  preachmg.  By  onction  they 
seem  to  mean  that  characteristic  of  preaching  which  consists  very  much 
in  a  solemn  and  yet  persuasive  tone  of  voice,  united  with  a  sort  of  holy 
and  rather  formal  gesturing,  which,  while  it  excites  an  attention  nearly 
allied  to  awe,  soothes  and  leads  the  mmd  to  devotion.  They  invariably 
include,  however,  the  idea  that  the  j^reaching  is  poxoerful  and  full  of 
feeling.  And  perhaj^s  this  is  the  prominent  idea  which  they  now  at- 
tach to  the  word,  not  excluding  that  of  a  holy  solemnity  hi  matter  and 
manner,  which  i^  well  fitted  to  lead  to  serious  emotions. 

"  Taking  the  word  onction  in  the  sense  which  we  have  just  attempted 
to  give  to  it,  we  think  that  the  French  preachers  have  more  of  what  it 
imports  than  any  other  preachers  whom  we  have  ever  heard.  This 
remark  is  applicable  to  the  unevangelical  as  w^ell  as  evangelical  ministers. 
In  some  cases  they  have  a  manner  of  utterance  so  studied  and  slow, 
especially  at  the  commencement  of  the  services  of  the  pulpit,  that  it  is 
drawling,  and  in  fact  disagreeable.  The  preachers  who  fall  into  this  fault, 
almost  invariably  have  a  formal,  and  in  some  degree,  affected  manner  of 


THE    FRENCH    PULPIT.  9 

gesture,  such  as  slowly  elevating  the  hands,  and  stretching  them  out  to 
the  utmost  extent  and  keeping  them  long  in  that  position,  in  prayer,  and 
frequently  giving  to  their  fingers,  and  even  the  Avhole  hand,  a  vibratory 
motion,  which  resembles  trembling,  at  the  moment  when  they  pronoimce 
some  important  word  in  a  slow  tone  and  with  such  an  abundance  of  the 
circumflex  accent,  as  to  produce  a  thrilling  unpression  on  the  hearer. 
But  a  greater  part  of  them  have  a  good  degree  of  simplicity  in  their 
manner  of  speaking,  and  do  not  offend  against  correct  taste,  by  that 
studied  solemnity  which  has  just  been  described. 

"  It  may  be  said  that  pathos^  or  the  exhibition  of  deep  emotion,  char- 
acterizes French  preaching  to  a  greater  degree  than  it  does  English  or 
American  preaching.  Few  French  preachers  fail  to  excite  more  or  less 
of  emotion  in  the  minds  of  their  hearers,  in  ahnost  every  discourse  which 
they  deliver.  By  the  use  of  touching  expressions,  pronounced  in  tones 
of  voice  fitted  to  excite  feeUug,  and  united  with  an  appearance  of  counte- 
nance, and  a  manner  of  gesture  which  indicate  emotion  on  the  part  of  the 
speaker,  they  seldom  fail  of  kmdling  in  the  bosoms  of  their  excitable 
auditors,  the  sentiments  and  emotions  which  the  nature  of  the  subject  is 
calculated  to  produce.  We  have  known  French  preachers  who  are  far 
from  being  evangehcal  in  their  doctrines,  who  possess  so  much  o^ pathos 
in  their  delivery,  who  manifest  so  much  emotion  themselves,  and  who 
adopt  a  manner  of  speaking  of  Christ  which  so  nearly  approaches  that 
which  is  evangehcal,  that  they  make  the  impression  on  every  stranger 
who  is  imperfectly  acquainted  with  their  character,  and  with  the  French 
language,  that  they  are  persons  of  eminent  piety  and  zeal !  And  all  this 
is  merely  an  effect  of  their  manner  of  speaking.  The  evangelical  minis- 
ters of  France,  so  far  as  we  have  heard  them,  seem  to  have  attained  great 
propriety  m  their  speaking,  ha\'ing  enough  o^  onction  and  jxithos,  and  at 
the  same  time  that  beautiful  simplicity  of  manner,  w]iich  accompanies 
unaffected  sincerity. 

"  The  French  preachers  of  the  present  day,  preserve  the  manner  of 
eomposmg  their  sermons  which  the  preachers  of  the  olden  times  m 
France  followed.  Like  them,  they  almost  invariably,  after  pronouncing 
a  suitable  introduction,  pause,  and  utter  a  short  prayer  for  the  blessing 
of  God  on  the  discussion  of  the  subject  which  is  to  be  presented  in  the 
following  portion  of  the  discourse.  To  one  who  is  not  accustomed  to 
it,  this  appears  remarkable,  but  it  soon  becomes  a  very  agreeable  inter- 
ruption to  the  current  of  the  sermon.  It  requires  some  tact  to  make  it 
in  such  a  variety  of  ways,  as  not  to  prove  monotonous  and  formal.  We 
wni  add  that  the  majority  of  French  ministers  write  their  sermons  with 
care,  and  very  many  of  them  commit  them  to  memory,  and  speak  either 
with,  or  without  their  notes  before  them. 

"  The  last  characteristic  of  evangehcal  French  preaching  which  we 
would  speak  of,  is  that  which  may  be  termed  Biblical  The  French 
preachers  of  this  school  possess  this  unportant  quality  of  good  preachmg 


10  THE    FRENCH    PULPIT. 

to  a  very  high  degree.  They  aim.  at  giving  simply  the  mhid  of  the 
Spirit.  '  Thus  saith  the  Lord,'  is  the  burden  of  their  discourses.  They 
are  not  given  to  the  vain  speculation  of  a  '  philosophy  falsely  so  called.' 
On  the  contrary  their  sermons  are  generally  distmguished  for  simple  and 
common  sense  expositions  of  the  doctrines  of  the  sacred  Scriptures.  The 
discussions  which  they  contain,  are  fine  specimens  of  sound  reasoning. 
It  is  rare  to  find  them  venturmg  upon  subjects  respecting  which  Reve- 
lation is  silent,  or  such  as  manifestly  transcend  the  powers  of  the  human 
mind.  In  this  respect  they  differ  widely  from  their  neighbors  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Rhine.  While  it  is  next  to  an  impossibihty  to  find  a 
German,  even  among  those  who  are  evangelical  on  all  the  fundamental 
doctrmes  of  the  Gosj^el,  who  is  fully  brought  to  give  up  the  attempt  to 
interpret  the  Scrijitures  by  his  philosophy,  the  Frenchman  who  has  '  jjut 
on  Christ,'  is  distinguished  for  the  dociUty  with  which  he  submits  his 
mind  and  will  to  what  God  has  revealed.  And  this  is  the  glory  of  the 
EvangeUcal  Protestant  Church  of  France,  and  has  been  ever  since  the 
days  of  the  Reformation." 


DISCOURSE    FORTY.FIFTH. 

JOHN    CALVIN. 

Calvix  was  born  at  Noyon,  in  Picardy,  the  10th  of  July,  1509,  the 
same  year  that  Henry  VIII.  was  crcsviied  Khig  of  England,  and  one 
year  after  Luther,  then  twenty-five  years  of  age,  was  established  preacher 
and  professor  at  Wittenburg.  His  family  name  was  Cauvin,  which  he 
Latinized  into  Calvinus.  "When  a  mere  child  he  used  to  pray  in  the  open 
air;  and  evinced  a  remarkable  sense  of  the  presence  of  God.  He  studied 
at  the  College  de  la  Marche,  at  Paris,  and  at  that  of  Montaign.  At 
twenty  years  of  age  he  became  preacher  at  Noyon.  Subsequently  he 
turned  his  attention  to  the  law,  in  which  he  became  proficient.  He,  how- 
ever, resumed  his  studies  in  theology ;  and  was  turned  away  from  the 
Catholic  faith  by  his  own  investigations,  and  the  cruel  persecutions  visited 
upon  those  who  adopted  the  views  of  the  Lutheran  Reformation.  He 
soon  went  to  Italy,  where  he  preached  the  new  doctrine,  but  in  1536  was 
compelled  to  leave  the  scene  of  his  labors,  when  he  settled  at  Geneva 
and  commenced  the  work  of  a  Reformed  Christian  minister.  Banished 
thence,  he  found  a  shelter  from  the  storm  at  Strasburg,  where  he  became 
professor  and  pastor.  In  1541  he  returned  to  Geneva  and  energetically 
recommenced  the  work  of  the  Reformation.  Much  of  the  time  he 
preached  daily,  lectured  frequently  in  theology,  jDresided  at  meetings, 
instructed  the  churches,  defended  the  Protestants  by  his  writings,  and 
by  visithig  them  from  place  to  place,  encouraged  and  confirmed  their 
faith.  He  wrote,  also,  many  elaborate  works,  and  performed  othermse 
an  amount  of  labor  almost  incredible.  His  health  early  began  to  declme, 
and  at  the  age  of  fifty-four  he  rested  from  his  labors,  and  went  up  to  the 
reward  of  grace  in  heaven. 

The  moral  and  intellectual  endowments  of  Calvin  marked  him  out 
for  a  man  caUed  and  quahfied  to  guide  the  opinions,  and  control  the 
emotions  of  men  in  the  trying  times  of  the  Reformation.  And  few  have 
done  more  to  shape  the  theological  opinions  of  men  for  all  time. 

The  cautious  Scaliger  pronounces  him  the  most  exalted  character 
that  has  appeared  since  the  days  of  the  Apostles,  and  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
two  the  most  learned  man  in  Europe.  His  works  first  ai^peared  in  1578, 
in  twelve  folio  volumes.  Most  of  them  have  recently  been  issued  by  the 
Calvin  Translation  Society  of  Edinburg,  in  some  fifty  vols.  8vo. 


12  JOHN    CAL YIN. 

As  a  preacher,  Calvin  is  by  no  means  to  be  ranked  with  the  pulpit 
orators  of  the  iVth  century.  He  knew  nothmg  of  the  rhetorical  art  of 
which  they  made  themselves  masters ;  nor  had  the  French  language  yet 
attamed  the  flexibility  and  polish  which  it  exhibited  a  century  later. 
Simphcity  is  the  j)rominent  characteristic  of  his  sermons.  His  style  was 
like  his  character — plain,  unartificial,  transparent,  and  practical;  verify- 
ing the  remark  of  his  biographer,  that  "the  greater  genius  is  always  the 
more  simple,"  Cahiu  preached  extempore ;  but  as  his  utterance  was 
not  rapid,  the  amanuenses  reported  him  so  exactly  as  to  lead  him  to  say 
of  some  of  his  sermons,  "  they  were  printed  just  as  they  feU  from  my 
lips." 

The  sermon  here  given  is  an  authentic  sj^ecimen  of  Calvin's  pulpit 
ministrations.  It  is  one  of  four  which  he  himself  published  at  Geneva 
in  1552.  It  was  entitled  "  On  Bearing  Persecution,"  and  he  put  it  forth 
as  he  says,  "  to  exhort  all  believers  to  prize  the  honor  and  service  of  God 
more  than  their  own  life,  and  to  strengthen  them  against  all  tempta- 
tions." A  few  of  the  less  important  sentences  are  omitted  for  the  sake 
of  brevity.  With  this  exception  it  is  as  f  lir  a  representation  of  the  origi- 
nal discourse,  as  can  be  made  in  the  necessary  translation. 


BEARING  THE  REPROACH  OP  CHRIST. 

"  Let  us  go  forth  out  of  the  tents  after  Christ,  bearmg  His  reproach." — Heb.  xiii.  13. 

As  persecution  is  always  harsh  and  bitter,  let  us  consider  How 

AND  BY  WHAT  MEANS  CHRISTIANS  MAY  BE  ABLE  TO  FORTIFY  THEM- 
SELVES  WITH   PATIENCE,  SO   AS   UNFLINCHINGLY   TO   EXPOSE   THEIR 

LIFE  FOR  THE  TRUTH  OF  GoD.  The  tex-t  which  we  have  read  out, 
when  it  is  properly  understood,  is  sufficient  to  induce  us  to  do  so. 
The  Apostle  says,  "  Let  us  go  forth  from  the  city  after  the  Lord 
Jesus,  bearing  His  reproach."  In  the  first  place,  he  reminds  us,  al- 
though the  sword  should  not  be  drawn  over  us  nor  the  fires  kindled 
to  burn  us,  that  we  can  not  be  truly  united  to  the  Son  of  God  while 
we  are  rooted  in  this  world.  Wherefore,  a  Christian,  even  in  repose, 
must  always  have  one  foot  lifted  to  march  to  battle,  and  not  only 
so,  but  he  must  have  his  affections  withdrawn  from  the  world, 
although  his  body  is  dwelling  in  it.  Grant  that  this  at  first  sight 
seems  to  us  hard,  still  we  must  be  satisfied  with  the  words  of  St.  Paul, 
"  We  are  called  and  appointed  to  suffer."  As  if  he  had  said  such  is 
our  condition  as  Christians ;  this  is  the  road  by  which  we  must  go, 
if  we  would  follow  Christ. 

Meanwhile,  to  solace  our  infirmity  and  mitigate  the  vexation  and 


BEARING    THE    REPROACn    OP    CHRIST.  I3 

sorrow  whicli  persecution  miglit  cause  us,  a  good  reward  is  held  fortli. 
In  suffering  for  the  cause  of  God,  we  are  walking  step  by  step  after 
the  Son  of  God,  and  have  Him  for  our  guide.  Were  it  simply  said 
that  to  be  Christians  we  must  pass  through  all  the  insults  of  the 
world  boldly,  to  meet  death  at  all  times  and  in  whatever  way  God 
may  be  pleased  to  appoint ;  we  might  apparently  have  some  pretext 
for  replying,  It  is  a  strange  road  to  go  at  a  peradventure.  But  when 
we  are  commanded  to  follow  the  Lord  Jesus,  His  guidance  is  too 
good  and  honorable  to  be  refused. 

Now,  in  order  that  we  may  be  more  deeply  moved,  not  only  is 
it  said  that  Jesus  Christ  walketh  before  us  as  our  Captain,  but  that 
we  are  made  conformable  to  His  image ;  as  St.  Paul  speaks  in  the 
eighth  chapter  to  the  Romans,  "God  hath  ordained  all  those  whom 
He  hath  adopted  for  His  children,  to  be  made  conformable  to  Him 
who  is  the  pattern  and  head  of  all." 

Are  we  so  delicate  as  to  be  unwilling  to  endure  any  thing  ?  Then 
we  must  renounce  the  grace  of  God  by  which  He  has  called  us  to 
the  hope  of  salvation.  For  there  are  two  things  which  can  not  be 
separated — to  be  members  of  Christ,  and  to  be  tried  by  many  afflic- 
tions. We  certainly  ought  to  prize  such  a  conformity  to  the  Son  of 
God  much  more  than  we  do.  It  is  true  that  in  the  world's  judg- 
ment there  is  disgrace  in  suffering  for  the  Gospel.  But  since  we  know 
that  unbelievers  are  blind,  ought  we  not  to  have  better  eyes  than 
they  ?  It  is  ignominy  to  suffer  from  those  who  occupy  the  seat  of 
justice,  but  St.  Paul  shows  us  by  his  example  that  we  have  to  glory 
in  scourgings  for  Jesus  Christ,  as  marks  by  which  God  recognizes 
and  avows  us  for  His  own.  And  we  know  what  St.  Luke  narrates 
of  Peter  and  John,  namely,  that  they  rejoiced  to  have  been  "  counted 
worthy  to  suffer  infamy  and  reproach  for  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus." 

Ignominy  and  dignity  are  two  opposites;  so  says  the  world, 
which,  being  infatuated,  judges  against  all  reason,  and  in  this  way 
converts  the  glory  of  God  into  dishonor.  But,  on  our  part,  let  us 
not  refuse  to  be  vilfied  as  concerns  the  world,  in  order  to  be  honored 
before  God  and  His  angels.  We  see  what  pains  the  ambitious  take 
to  receive  the  commands  of  a  king,  and  what  a  boast  the}''  make  of 
it.  The  Son  of  God  presents  His  commands  to  us,  and  every  one 
stands  back  !  Tell  me,  pray,  whether  in  so  doing  we  are  worthy  of 
having  any  thing  in  common  with  Him  ?  There  is  nothing  here  to 
attract  our  sensual  nature,  but  such  notwithstanding  are  the  true 
escutcheons  of  nobility  in  the  heavens.  Imprisonment,  exile,  evil 
report,  imply  in  men's  imaginations  whatever  is  to  be  vituperated ; 


14  JOHN    CALVIN. 

but  wliat  hinders  us  from  viewing  things  as  God  judges  and  declares 
tliem,  save  our  unbelief?  Wherefore,  let  the  name  of  the  Son  of 
God  have  all  the  weight  with  us  which  it  deserves,  that  we  may  learn 
to  count  it  honor  when  He  stamps  His  mark  upon  us.  If  we  act 
otherwise,  our  ingratitude  is  insupportable !  Were  God.  to  deal  with  us 
according  to  our  deserts,  would  He  not  have  just  cause  to  chastise  us 
daily  in  a  thousand  ways  ?  Nay  more,  a  hundred  thousand  deaths 
would  not  suffice  for  a  small  portion  of  our  misdeeds  !  Now,  if  in 
His  infinite  goodness.  He  jDuts  all  our  faults  under  His  foot,  and  abol- 
ishes them,  and  instead  of  punishing  us  according  to  our  demerit, 
devises  an  admirable  means  to  convert  our  afflictions  into  honor  and 
a  special  privilege,  inasmuch  as  through  them  we  are  taken  into 
partnership  with  His  Son,  must  it  not  be  said,  when  we  disdain  such 
a  happy  state,  that  we  have  indeed  made  little  ]3i'ogress  in  Christian 
doctrine  ? 

Accordingly  St.  Peter,  after  exhorting  us  to  walk  so  purely  in 
the  fear  of  God,  as  "not  to  suffer  as  thieves,  adulterers,  and  mur- 
derers," immediately  adds,  "  If  we  must  suifer  as  Christians,  let  us 
glorify  God  for  the  blessings  which  He  thus  bestows  upon  us." 
It  is  not  without  cause  he  speaks  thus.  For  who  are  we,  I  pray,  to 
be  witnesses  of  the  truth  of  God,  and  advocates  to  maintain  His 
cause  ?  Here  we  are,  poor  worms  of  the  earth,  creatures  full  of 
vanity,  full  of  lies,  and  yet  God  employs  us  to  defend  His  truth — an 
honor  which  pertains  not  even  to  the  angels  of  heaven !  May  not 
this  consideration  alone  well  inflame  us  to  offer  ourselves  to  God  to 
be  employed  in  any  way  in  such  honorable  sex'vice  ? 

Many  persons,  however,  can  not  refrain  from  pleading  against  God ; 
or,  at  least,  from  complaining  against  Him  for  not  better  supporting 
their  weakness.  It  is  marvelously  strange,  they  say,  how  God,  after 
having  chosen  us  for  His  children,  allows  us  to  be  so  trampled  upon 
and  tormented  by  the  ungodly.  I  answer,  even  were  it  not  apparent 
why  He  does  so.  He  well  might  exercise  His  authority  over  us,  and 
fix  our  lot  at  His  pleasure.  But  when  we  see  that  Jesus  Christ  is 
our  pattern,  ought  we  not,  without  inquiring  further,  to  esteem  it 
great  happiness  that  we  are  made  like  Him  ?  God,  however,  makes 
it  very  apparent  what  the  reasons  are  for  which  He  is  pleased  that 
we  should  be  persecuted.  Had  we  nothing  more  than  the  considera- 
tion suggested  by  St,  Peter,  (1  Pet.  i.  7.)  we  were  disdainful  indeed  not 
to  acquiesce  in  it.  He  says,  '  Since  gold  and  silver,  which  are  only 
corruptible  metals,  are  purified  and  tested  by  fire,  it  is  but  reasonable 
that  our  faith,  which  surpasses  all  the  riches  of  the  world,  should  be 
tried.'     It  were  easy,  indeed,  for  God  to  crown  us  at  once  without 


BEAEING    THE    REPROACH    OP    CHRIST.  15 

requiring  us  to  sustain  any  combats  ;  "but  as  it  is  His  pleasure  that 
until  the  end  of  the  world  Christ  shall  reign  in  the  midst  of  His 
enemies,  so  it  is  also  His  pleasure  that  we,  being  placed  in  the  midst 
of  them,  shall  suffer  their  oppression  and  violence  till  He  deliver 
us.  I  know,  indeed,  that  the  flesh  kicks  when  it  is  to  be  brought  to 
this  point,  but  still  the  will  of  God  must  have  the  mastery.  If  we 
feel  some  repugnance  in  ourselves,  it  need  not  surprise  us  ;  for  it  is 
only  too  natural  for  us  to  shun  the  cross.  Still  let  us  not  fail  to  sur- 
mount it,  knowing  that  God  accepts  our  obedience,  provided  we 
bring  all  our  feelings  and  wishes  into  captivity,  and  make  them 
subject  to  Him. 

When  the  Prophets  and  Apostles  went  to  death,  it  was  not 
without  feeling  within  some  inclination  to  recoil.  "  They  will 
lead  thee  whither  thou  wouldst  not,"  said  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to 
Peter.  When  such  fears  of  death  arise  within  us,  let  us  gain  the 
mastery  over  them,  or  rather  let  God  gain  it ;  and,  meanwhile,  let 
us  feel  assured  that  we  offer  Him  a  pleasing  sacrifice  when  we  resist 
and  do  violence  to  our  inclinations  for  the  purpose  of  placing  our- 
selves entirely  under  His  command.  This  is  the  j^rincipal  war  in 
which  God  would  have  His  children  to  be  engaged.  He  would  have 
them  strive  to  suppress  every  rebellious  thought  and  feeling  which 
would  turn  them  aside  from  the  path  to  which  He  points.  And  the 
consolations  are  so  ample  that  it  may  well  be  said,  we  are  more  than 
cowards  if  we  give  way ! 

In  ancient  times  vast  numbers  of  people,  to  obtain  a  simple  crown 
of  leaves,  refused  no  toil,  no  pain,  no  trouble ;  nay,  it  even  cost 
them  nothing  to  die,  and  yet  every  one  of  them  fought  for  a  perad- 
venture,  not  knowing  whether  he  was  to  gain  or  lose  the  prize.  God 
holds  forth  to  us  the  immortal  crown  by  which  we  may  become 
partakers  of  His  glory.  He  does  not  mean  to  fight  at  hap-hazard, 
but  all  of  us  have  a  promise  of  the  prize  for  which  we  strive.  Have 
we  any  cause  then  to  decline  the  struggle  ?  Do  we  think  it  has  been 
said  in  vain,  "  If  we  die  with  Jesus  Christ  we  shall  also  live  with 
Him  ?"  Our  triumph  is  prepared  and  yet  we  do  all  we  can  to  shun 
the  combat ! 

But  it  is  said  that  "all  we  teach  on  this  subject  is  repugnant  to 
human  judgment."  I  confess  it.  And  hence  when  our  Saviour  de- 
clares, "  Blessed  are  they  who  are  persecuted  for  righteousness'  sake," 
He  gives  utterance  to  a  sentiment  which  is  not  easily  received  in  the 
world.  On  the  contrary,  He  wishes  to  account  that  as  happiness, 
which  in  the  judgment  of  sense  is  misery.  We  seem  to  ourselves 
miserable  when  God  leaves  us  to  be  trampled  upon  by  the  tyranny 


16  JOHN    CALVIN. 

and  cruelty  of  our  enemies ;  but  the  error  is  that  we  look  not  to  the 
promises  of  God,  which  assure  us  that  all  will  turn  to  our  good. 
We  are  cast  down  when  we  see  the  wicked  stronger  than  we,  and 
planting  their  foot  on  our  throat;  "But  such  confusion  should 
rather,"  as  St.  Paul  says,  "  cause  us  to  lift  up  our  heads."  Seeing  we 
are  too  much  disposed  to  amuse  ourselves  with  present  objects,  God, 
in  permitting  the  good  to  be  maltreated  and  the  wicked  to  have 
sway,  shows  by  evident  tokens  that  a  day  is  coming  on  which  all 
that  is  now  in  confusion  will  be  reduced  to  order.  If  the  period 
seems  distant,  let  us  run  to  the  remedy,  and  not  flatter  ourselves  in 
our  sin  ;  for  it  is  certain  that  we  have  no  faith  if  we  can  not  carry 
our  views  forward  to  the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ. 

To  leave  no  means  which  may  be  fitted  to  stimulate  us  unem- 
ployed, God  sets  before  us  promises  on  the  one  hand,  and  threaten- 
INGS  on  the  other.  Do  we  feel  that  the  promises  have  not  sufficient 
influence,  let  us  strengthen  them  by  adding  the  threatenings.  It  is 
true  we  must  be  perverse  in  the  extreme  not  to  put  more  faith  in  the 
promises  of  God,  when  the  Lord  Jesus  says  that  He  will  own  us  as 
His  before  His  Father,  provided  we  confess  Him  before  men.  What 
should  prevent  us  from  making  the  confession  which  He  requires  ? 
Let  men  do  their  utmost,  they  can  not  do  worse  than  murder  us ; 
and  will  not  the  heavenly  life  compensate  for  this  ?  I  do  not  here 
collect  all  the  passages  of  Scripture  which  bear  upon  this  subject ; 
they  are  so  often  reiterated  that  we  ought  to  be  perfectly  satisfied 
with  them.  When  the  struggle  comes,  if  three  or  four  passages  do 
not  suffice,  a  hundred  surely  ought  to  make  us  proof  against  all 
temptations ! 

But  if  God  can  not  win  us  to  Himself  by  gentle  means,  must  we 
not  be  mere  blocks  if  His  threatenings  also  fail  ?  Jesus  Christ  sum- 
mons all  those  who  from  fear  of  temporal  death  shall  have  denied 
the  truth,  to  appear  at  the  bar  of  God  His  Father,  and  says,  "  That 
then  both  soul  and  body  will  be  consigned  to  perdition."  And  in 
another  passage  He  says,  "  That  He  will  disclaim  all  those  who  shall 
have  denied  Him  before  men."  These  words,  if  we  are  not  alto- 
gether impervious  to  feeling,  miglit  well  make  our  hair  stand  on 
end  !  Be  this  as  it  may,  this  much  is  certain — if  these  things  do  not 
move  us  as  they  ought,  nothing  remains  for  us  but  a  fearful  judgment. 
AU  the  words  of  Christ  having  proved  unavailing,  we  stand  con- 
victed of  gross  infidelity. 

It  is  vain  for  us  to  allege  that  pity  should  be  shown  us,  inasmuch 
as  our  nature  is  so  frail ;  for  it  is  said,  on  the  contrary,  that  Moses 
having  looked  to  God  by  faith  was  fortified  so  as  not  to  yield  under 


BEARING  THE  REPROACH  OF  CHRIST.        I7 

any  temptation.  Wlierefore,  when  we  are  thus  soft  and  easy  to 
bend,  it  is  a  manifest  sign — I  do  not  say  that  we  have  no  zeal,  no 
firmness — but  that  we  know  nothing  either  of  God  or  His  kingdom. 
When  we  are  reminded  that  we  ought  to  be  united  to  our  Head,  it 
seems  for  us  a  fine  pretext  for  corruption  to  say,  that  we  are  men ! 
But  what  were  those  who  have  trodden  the  path  before  us  ?  Indeed, 
had  we  nothing  more  than  pure  doctrine,  all  the  excuses  we  could 
make  would  be  frivolous ;  but  having  so  many  examples,  which 
ought  to  supply  us  with  the  strongest  proof,  the  more  deserving  are 
we  of  condemnation. 

There  are  two  points  to  be  considered.  The  first  is,  that  the 
whole  body  of  the  Church  has  always  been,  and  to  the  end  will 
be,  liable  to  be  afflicted  by  the  wicked,  as  is  said  in  Psalm,  cxxix. 
1 :  "  From  my  youth  up  they  have  tormented  me,  and  dragged 
the  plow  over  me  ffom  one  end  to  the  other."  The  Holy  Spirit 
there  brings  in  the  ancient  Church,  in  order  that  we,  having 
been  much  acquainted  with  her  afflictions,  may  not  regard  it  either 
as  new  or  vexatious,  when  the  like  is  done  to  ourselves  in  the  pres- 
ent day.  St.  Paul,  also,  in  quoting  from  another  Psalm,  a  passage 
in  which  it  is  said,  "We  have  been  like  sheep  to  the  slaughter;" 
shows  that  that  has  not  been  for  one  age  only,  but  is  the  ordinary 
condition  of  the  Church,  and  shall  be. 

Tlierefore,  in  seeing  how  the  Church  of  God  is  trampled  upon  in 
the  present  day  by  proud  worldlings,  how  one  barks,  and  another 
bites ;  how  they  torture,  how  they  plot  against  her ;  how  she  is  as- 
sailed incessantly  by  mad  dogs,  and  savage  beasts,  let  it  remind  us 
that  the  same  thing  was  done  in  all  the  olden  time.  It  is  true  God 
sometimes  gives  her  a  time  of  refreshment  and  a  truce,  hence,  in  the 
Psalm  above  quoted,  it  is  said,  '  He  cutteth  the  cords  of  the  wicked ;' 
and  in  another  passage,  '  He  breaks  their  stafi",  lest  the  good  should 
fall  away,  by  being  too  hardly  pressed.'  But  still  it  has  pleased 
Him  that  His  Church  should  always  have  to  battle  so  long  as  she  is 
in  this  world,  her  repose  being  treasured  upon  high  in  the  heavens. 

Meanwhile,  the  issue  of  her  afflictions  has  always  been  fortunate. 
At  all  events  God  has  caused  that  though  she  has  been  pressed  by 
many  calamities,  she  has  never  been  completely  crushed  ;  as  it  is  said, 
'  The  wicked,  with  all  their  efforts  have  not  succeeded  in  that  at 
which  tbey  aimed.'  St.  Paul  glories  in  the  fact,  and  shows  that  this 
is  the  course  which  God  in  mercy  always  takes,  "  We  endure  tribu- 
lations, but  we  are  not  in  agony  ;  we  are  impoverished,  but  not  left 
destitute ;  we  are  persecuted,  but  not  forsaken ;  cast  down,  but  we 
perish  not ;  bearing  every  where  in  our  bodies  the  mortification  of 

2 


18  JOHNCALYIN. 

the  Lord  Jesus,  in  order  tliat  His  life  may  be  manifested  in  our 
mortal  bodies."  Sucli  being,  as  we  see,  tlie  issue  wbicli  God  has  at 
all  times  given  to  the  persecutions  of  His  Church,  we  ought  to  take 
courage,  knowing  that  our  forefathers,  who  were  frail  men  like  our- 
selves, always  had  the  victory  over  their  enemies,  by  remaining  firm 
in  endurance. 

I  only  touch  on  this  article  briefly,  to  come  to  the  second,  which 
is  more  to  our  purpose,  viz. :  that  we  ought  to  take  advantage 
OF  the  particular  martyrs  who  have  goxe  before  us. 

These  are  not  confined  to  two  or  three,  but  are,  as  the  Apostle 
says,  "  a  great  and  dense  cloud."  By  this  expression  he  intimates 
that  the  number  is  so  great  that  it  ought,  as  it  were,  completely  to 
engross  our  sight.  Not  to  be  tedious,  I  will  only  mention  the  Jews, 
who  were  persecuted  for  the  true  religion,  as  well  under  the  tyranny 
of  King  Antiochus  as  a  little  after  his  death.  We  can  not  allege 
that  the  number  of  sufferers  was  small,  for  it  formed,  as  it  were, 
a  large  army  of  martyrs.  We  can  not  say  that  it  consisted  of 
prophets,  whom  God  had  set  apart  from  the  common  people;  for 
women  and  young  children  formed  part  of  the  band.  We  can  not 
say  that  they  got  off  at  a  cheap  rate,  for  they  were  tortured  as  cruelly 
as  it  was  possible  to  be.  Accordingly,  we  hear  what  the  Apostle 
says:  "  Some  were  stretched  out  like  drums,  not  caring  to  be  deliv- 
ered, that  they  might  obtain  a  better  resurrection ;  others  were 
proved  by  mockery  and  blows,  or  bonds  and  piisons ;  others  were 
stoned  or  sawn  asunder ;  others  traveled  up  and  down,  wandering 
among  mountains  and  caves.' 

Let  us  now  compare  their  case  with  ours.  If  they  so  endured  for 
the  truth,  which  was  at  that  time  so  obscure,  what  ought  we  to  do 
in  the  clear  light  which  is  now  shining?  God  speaks  to  us  with 
open  voice ;  the  great  gate  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  has  been 
opened,  and  Jesus  Christ  calls  us  to  Himself,  after  having  come  down 
to  us,  that  we  might  have  Him,  as  it  were,  present  to  our  e3^es.  What 
a  reproach  would  it  be  to  us  to  have  less  zeal  in  suffering  for  the 
Gospel,  than  those  had  who  only  hailed  the  promises  afar  off,  who 
had  only  a  little  wicket  opened,  whereby  to  come  to  the  kingdom 
of  God,  and  who  had  only  some  memorial  and  type  of  Christ !  These 
things  can  not  be  expressed  in  word  as  they  deserve,  and  therefore  I 
leave  each  to  ponder  them  for  himself 

Let  it  be  considered,  then,  as  a  fixed  point  among  all  Christians, 
that  they  ought  not  to  hold  their  life  more  precious  than  the  testimony 
to  the  truth,  inasmuch  as  God  wishes  to  be  glorified  thereby.  Is  it 
in  vain  that  He  gives  the  name  of  Witnesses  (for  this  is  the  mean- 


BEARING    THE    REPROACH    OF    CHRIST.  19 

ing  of  tlie  word  Martyr)  to  all  wlio  have  to  answer  before  the  ene- 
mies of  the  faith  ?  Is  it  not  because  He  "wishes  to  employ  them  for 
such  a  purpose  ?  Here  every  one  is  not  to  look  for  his  fellow,  for 
God  does  not  honor  all  ahke  with  the  call.  And  as  w^e  are  inclined 
so  to  look,  we  must  be  the  more  on  our  guard  against  it.  Peter 
having  heard  from  the  lips  of  the  Lord  Jesus  that  he  should  be  led 
in  his  old  age  where  he  would  not,  asked,  What  was  to  become  of 
Ms  companion  John?  There  is  not  one  among  us  who  could  not 
readily  have  put  the  same  ;  for  the  thought  which  instantly  rises  in 
our  minds  is,  Why  do  I  suffer  rather  than  others  ?  On  the  contrary, 
Jesus  Christ  exhorts  all  of  us  in  common,  and  each  of  us  in  particular, 
to  hold  ourselves  "read}?-,"  in  order  that,  according  as  He  shall  call 
this  one  or  that  one,  we  may  march  forth  in  our  turn. 

I  explained  above,  how  little  prepared  we  shall  be  to  suffer  mar- 
tyrdom, if  we  be  not  armed  with  the  Divine  promises.  It  now  re- 
mains to  show,  somewhat  more  fully,  what  the  purport  and  aim 
OF  THESE  PROMISES  ARE — not  to  Specify  them  all  in  detail,  but  to  show 
the  principal  things  which  God  wishes  us  to  hope  from  Him  to  console 
US  in  our  afl&ictions.  Now  these  things,  taken  summarily,  are  three. 
The  first  is.  That,  inasmuch  as  our  life  and  death  are  in  His 

HAND,  He  "WILL  so   PRESERVE   US  BY  HiS   MIGHT  THAT   NOT  A  HAIR 

WILL  BE  PLUCKED  OUT  OF  OUR  HEADS  WITHOUT  His  LEAVE.  Be- 
lievers, therefore,  ought  to  feel  assured,  into  whatever  hands  they 
may  fall,  that  God  is  not  divested  of  the  guardianship  which  He  ex- 
ercises over  their  persons.  Were  such  a  persuasion  well  imprinted 
on  our  hearts,  we  should  be  delivered  from  the  greater  part  of  the 
doubts  and  perplexities  which  torment  us,  and  obstruct  us  in  our 
duty. 

We  see  tyrants  let  loose  :  thereupon  it  seems  to  us  that  God  no 
longer  possesses  any  means  of  saving  us,  and  we  are  tempted  to 
provide  for  our  own  affairs  as  if  nothing  more  were  to  be  expected 
from  Him.  On  the  contrary,  His  providence,  as  He  unfolds  it, 
ought  to  be  regarded  by  us  as  an  impregnable  fortress.  Let  us  labor, 
then,  to  learn  the  full  import  of  the  expression  that  our  bodies  are 
in  the  hands  of  Him  who  created  them.  For  this  reason  He  has 
sometimes  delivered  His  people  in  a  miraculous  manner,  and  beyond 
all  human  expectation,  as  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego,  from 
the  fiery  furnace  ;  Daniel  from  the  den  of  lions ;  Peter  from  Herod's 
prison,  where  he  was  locked  in,  chained,  and  guarded  so  closely. 
By  these  examples  He  meant  to  testify  that  He  holds  our  enemies  in 
check,  although  it  may  not  seem  so,  and  has  power  to  withdraw  us 
from  the  midst  of  death  when  He  pleases.    Kot  that  He  always  does 


20  JOHN    CALYIN. 

it ;  but  in  reserving  authority  to  Himself,  to  dispose  of  us  for  life 
and  death,  He  would  have  us  to  feel  fully  assured  that  He  has  us 
under  His  charge  ;  so  that  whatever  tyrants  attempt,  and  with  what- 
ever fury  they  may  rush  against  us,  it  belongs  to  Him  alone  to  order 
our  life. 

If  He  permits  tyrants  to  slay  us,  it  is  not  because  our  life  is  not 
dear  to  Him,  and  in  greater  honor,  a  hundred  times,  than  it  deserves. 
Such  being  the  case,  having  declared  by  the  mouth  of  David  that 
the  death  of  His  saints  is  precious  in  His  sight,  He  says  also,  by  the 
mouth  of  Isaiah,  that  the  earth  will  discover  the  blood  which  seems 
to  be  concealed.  Let  the  enemies  of  the  Gospel,  then,  be  as  prodi- 
gal as  they  will  of  the  blood  of  martyrs;  they  shall  have  to  render  a 
fearful  account  of  it,  even  to  the  last  drop !  In  the  present  day,  they 
indulge  in  proud  derision  while  consigning  believers  to  the  flames  ; 
and  after  having  bathed  in  their  blood,  they  are  intoxicated  by  it  to 
such  a  degree  as  to  count  all  the  murders  they  commit  mere  festive 
sport.  But  if  we  have  patience  to  wait,  God  will  show  in  the  end 
that  it  is  not  in  vain  He  has  rated  our  life  at  so  high  a  value ! 
Meanwhile,  let  it  not  offend  us  that  it  seems  to  confirm  the  Gospel, 
which  in  worth  surpasses  heaven  and  earth ! 

To  be  better  assured  that  God  does  not  leave  us  as  it  were  forsa- 
ken in  the  hands  of  tyrants,  let  us  remember  the  declaration  of  Jesus 
Christ,  when  He  says  that  He  Himself  is  persecuted  in  His  members. 
God  had  indeed  said  before,  by  Zechariah,  "He  who  touches  you, 
toucheth  the  apple  of  Mine  eye;"  but  here  it  is  said  much  more 
expressly  that  if  we  suffer  for  the  Gospel,  it  is  as  much  as  if  the  Son 
of  God  were  suffering  in  person.  Let  us  know,  therefore,  that  Jesus 
Christ  must  forget  Himself  before  He  can  cease  to  think  of  us  when 
we  are  in  prison,  or  in  danger  of  death  for  His  cause ;  and  let  us 
know  that  God  will  take  to  heart  all  the  outrages  which  tyrants  com- 
mit upon  us,  just  as  if  they  were  committed  on  His  own  Son. 

Let  us  now  come  to  our  second  point,  which  God  declares  to  us 
in  His  promise  for  our  consolation.     It  is,  that  He  will  so  sustain 

us  BY  THE  ENERGY  OF  HiS  SPIRIT,  THAT  OUR  ENEMIES,  DO  WHAT 
THEY  MAY,  EVEN  WITH  SaTAN  AT  THEIR  HEAD,  WILL  GAIN  NO  AD- 
VANTAGE OVER  US.  And  we  see  how  He  displays  His  gifts  in  such 
an  emergency ;  for  the  invincible  constancy  which  appears  in  the 
martyrs,  abundantly  and  beautifully  demonstrates  that  God  works  in 
them  mightily.  In  persecution  there  are  two  things  grievous  to  the 
flesh,  the  vituperation  and  insult  of  men,  and  the  tortures  which  the 
body  suffers.  Now,  God  promises  to  hold  out  His  hand  to  us  so 
effectually  that  we  shall   overcome  both  by  patience.     What  He 


BEARINQ    THE    EEPROACH    OP    CHRIST.  £1 

thus  tells,  "US  He  confirms  by  fact.  Let  us  take  this  buckler,  then, 
to  ward  off  all  fears  by  wbicli  we  are  assailed  ;  and  let  us  not  con- 
fine the  workings  of  the  Holy  Spirit  within  such  narrow  limits 
as  to  suppose  that  He  will  not  easily  surmount  all  the  cruelties  of 
men.        *        «        *        *        -x- 

The  third  point  for  consideration,  in  the  promises  which  God 
gives  to  His  martyrs,  is,  The  fruit  which  they  ought  to  hope 

FOR  FROM  THEIR  SUFFERINGS,  AND,  IN  THE  END,  IF  NEED  BE,  FROM 

their  DEATH.  ISTow,  this  fruit  is,  that  after  having  glorified  His 
name,  after  having  edified  the  Church  by  their  constancy,  they  will 
be  gathered  together  with  the  Lord  Jesus  into  His  immortal  glory. 
But  as  we  have  above  spoken  of  this  at  some  length,  it  is  enough 
here  to  recall  it  to  remembrance.  Let  believers,  then,  learn  to  lift 
up  their  heads  toward  the  crown  of  glory  and  immortality  to  which 
God  invites  them,  that  thus  they  may  not  feel  reluctant  to  quit  the 
present  life  for  such  a  recompense,  and  to  feel  well  assured  of  this 
inestimable  blessing ;  let  them  have  always  before  their  eyes  the 
conformity  which  they  thus  have  to  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  behold- 
ing death  in  the  midst  of  life,  just  as  He,  by  the  reproach  of  the 
cross,  attained  to  the  glorious  resurrection^  wherein  consists  all  our 
felicity,  joy,  and  triumph  ! 


DISCOURSE    FORTY. SIXTH. 

JAMES     BENIGNE     BOSSUET. 

BossuET  was  Iboru  at  Dijon,  in  Burgundy,  the  27th  o!"  Sej)tember, 
1627,  and  died  at  Paris,  1704.  From  the  first  he  exhibited  remarkable 
fondness  for  study ;  and  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  astonished  his  friends  by 
his  precocious  displays  of  extemporaneous  eloquence.  His  studies  for 
the  ministry,  to  which  he  was  destmed  from  his  early  youth,  were  pur- 
sued, first  in  the  Jesuit  College  at  Dijon ;  and  upon  abandoning  that  order, 
he  resorted  to  the  College  of  ISTavarre,  in  Paris.  The  great  orators  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  and  the  works  of  Chrysostom  and  Augustine,  Avere  en- 
thusiastically studied  and  admired  by  him  for  their  lofty  eloquence. 
His  first  appearance  in  the  pulpit,  in  Paris,  produced  a  wide  sensation, 
and  drew  crowds  of  admiring  listeners.  Soon  after  he  was  called  to  the 
Court,  and  appointed  to  deliver  the  Lent  Sermons  in  1662.  The  king, 
Louis  XIY.,  was  delighted  with  the  young  preacher,  and  api^ointed  him 
to  the  See  of  Condom,  and  afterward  to  that  of  Meaux,  beside  confer- 
ring upon  him  many  other  honors. 

The  heart  of  Bossuet  excites  our  admiration  to  a  much  less  extent 
than  does  his  head.  Perhaps  it  is  not  strange  that  a  woi'ldly,  ambitious, 
and  proud  spirit  should  have  been  begotten  and  fostered,  amid  the  fas- 
cinations and  corruptions  that  surrounded  him.  The  favorite  of  the 
clergy,  and  the  opponent  of  a  jDure,  simple,  spiritual  faith,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  he  became  the  oppressive  dictator,  and  tarnished  his  fair 
fame  by  persecuting  some  of  the  purest  and  best  spirits  of  his  age.  But 
the  genius  of  Bossuet,  esj)ecially  his  powers  of  oratory,  can  scarcely  be 
overrated.  He  was  styled  the  Plato  of  the  clergy,  because  he  was 
"Philosopher,  Orator,  and  Poet."  The  snarlmg  Voltaire,  who  often 
attended  his  preaching,  remarked  that  among  all  the  elegant  waiters  of 
the  age,  Bossuet  was  the  only  eloquent  man.  It  is  admitted  by  French 
critics  that  his  style  is  as  faultless  as  that  of  any  wi'iter  in  any  tongue. 

The  term  which  characterizes  the  discourses  of  Bossuet  is  magnifi- 
cence. His  best  productions  are  Funeral  Orations ;  indeed  most  of  his 
ordinary  sermons  come  to  us  only  in  fragments.  But  those  in  which  he 
celebrates  the  illustrious  dead,  exhibit  the  traces  of  a  masterly  skill. 


PUXEEAL    ORATION.  23 

Here,  every  stone  is  squared  aud  polished,  and  every  sentence,  image, 
word,  subjected  to  the  severest  ordeal ;  yet  though  elaborated  to  the 
highest  possible  degree,  they  are  spirited,  and  animated  with  the  boldest 
figures ;  and  frequently  rise  to  true  sublimity  of  expression.  They  are 
simple,  and  yet  majestic ;  triumphantly  splendid,  but  without  the  aftect- 
ation  of  j^omp.  His  hest  Oration  is  that  pronounced  at  the  funeral  of 
the  great  Conde.  The  occasion  was  one  of  surpassing  interest,  the 
orator  fully  comprehended  and  admu-ed  the  character  and  life  of  him 
whom  he  celebrates,  and  was  able  to  take  advantage  of  every  incident ; 
and  he  entered  into  liis  subject  with  the  highest  enthusiasm.  Advanced 
in  years,  he  never  expected  to  deliver  another  Oration  of  the  kind ; 
and,  as  he  arose,  himself  deeply  affected,  and  surrounded  by  the  sym- 
bols of  woe  with  which  the  great  church  of  Notre  Dame  was  hung, 
and  the  weepmg  crowd,  made  up  of  the  rank  and  talent  of  the  king- 
dom, he  solemnly  pronounced  his  text,  and  the  striking  introduction, 
aud  then  poured  forth  a  flood  of  eloquence,  itself  enough  to  immortal- 
ize his  name.  To  adopt  the  criticism  of  another.  As  the  orator  advances 
he  gathers  strength  by  the  force  of  his  movement :  his  thoughts  boimd 
and  leap  like  the  quick  and  impetuous  sallies  of  the  warrior  whom  he 
describes :  his  language  gloAVS  and  sparkles,  rushes  and  rejoices,  like  a 
free  and  bounding  river,  sweeping  in  beauty  through  the  open  cham- 
paign, gathering  volume  and  strength  from  tributary  streams,  glancing 
through  green  meadows  and  dark  woodlands,  rushing  through  forests 
and  mountains,  and  finally  plunging,  "wdth  resistless  force  and  majesty, 
into  the  open  sea. 


FUNERAL  ORATION  FOR  LOUIS  BOURBON, 
PRINCE  OF  CONDE. 

DELITEKED     BEFORE     LOUIS     XIV. 

"  The  Lord  is  with  thee,  thou  mighty  mau  of  valor.     Go  in  this  thy  might.     Surely  I 
will  be  with  thee." — Judges,  vi.  12,  14,  16. 

At  the  moment  that  I  open  my  lips  to  celebrate  the  immortal 
glory  of  Louis  Bourbon,  Prince  of  Conde,  I  find  myself  equally 
overwhelmed  by  the  greatness  of  the  subject,  and,  if  permitted  to 
avow  it,  by  the  uselessness  of  the  task.  What  part  of  the  habitable 
world  has  not  heard  of  the  victories  of  the  Prince  of  Conde,  and 
the  wonders  of  his  life  ?  Every  where  they  are  rehearsed.  The 
Frenchman,  in  extolling  them,  can  give  no  information  to  the 
stranger.     And  although  I  may  remind  you  of  them  to- day,  yet, 


24  JAMES    BENiaNfi    BOSSUET. 

always  anticipated  by  your  tliouglits,  I  shall  have  to  suffer  your 
secret  reproacli  for  falling  so  far  below  them.  We  feeble  orators  can 
add  nothing  to  the  glory  of  extraordinary  souls.  "Well  has  the  sage 
remarked  that  their  actions  alone  praise  them  ;  all  other  praise  lan- 
guishes by  the  side  of  their  great  names.  The  simplicity  of  a  faith- 
ful narrative  alone  can  sustain  the  glory  of  the  Prince  of  Conde. 
But  expecting  that  history,  which  owes  such  a  narrative  to  future 
ages,  will  make  this  appear,  we  must  satisfy,  as  we  can,  the  gratitude 
of  the  public,  and  the  commands  of  the  greatest  of  kings.  What 
does  the  empire  not  owe  to  a  prince  who  has  honored  the  house  of 
France,  the  whole  French  name,  and,  so  to  speak,  mankind  at  large ! 
Louis  the  Great  himself  has  entered  into  these  sentiments.  After 
having  mourned  that  great  man,  and  given  by  his  tears,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  whole  court,  the  most  glorious  eulogy  which  he  could 
receive,  he  gathers  together  in  this  illustrious  temple  whatever  is 
most  august  in  his  kingdom,  to  render  public  acknowledgments  to 
the  memory  of  the  Prince ;  and  he  desires  that  my  feeble  voice 
should  animate  all  these  mournful  signs — all  this  funeral  array.  Let 
us  then  subdue  our  grief  and  make  the  effort. 

But  here  a  greater  object,  and  one  more  worthy  of  the  pulpit, 
presents  itself  to  my  thoughts.  God  it  is  who  makes  warriors  and 
conquerors.  "  Thou,"  said  David,  "  hast  taught  my  hands  to  war, 
and  my  lingers  to  fight."  If  He  inspires  courage  He  gives  no  less 
other  great  qualities,  natural  and  supernatural,  both  of  the  mind 
and  heart.  Every  thing  comes  from  His  powerful  hand ;  from 
heaven  He  sends  all  generous  sentiments,  wise  counsels,  and  good 
thoughts.  But  He  would  have  us  to  distinguish  between  the  gifts 
which  He  abandons  to  His  enemies  and  those  which  He  reserves  for 
His  servants.  What  distinguishes  His  friends  from  all  others  is 
piety  ;  until  that  gift  of  Heaven  is  received,  all  others  are  not  only 
useless,  but  aid  the  ruin  of  those  whom  they  adorn.  Without  this 
inestimable  gift  of  piety,  what  were  the  Prince  of  Conde,  with  all 
his  great  heart  and  lofty  genius  ?  No,  my  brethren,  if  piety  had 
not  consecrated  his  other  virtues,  neither  these  princes  would  have 
found  any  solace  for  their  grief,  nor  that  venerable  prelate  any  con- 
fidence in  his  prayers,  nor  myself  any  support  for  the  praises  which 
are  due  to  so  great  a  man.  Under  the  influence  of  such  an  example, 
let  us  lose  sight  of  all  human  glory  !  Destroy  the  idol  of  the  am- 
bitious !  Let  it  fall  prostrate  before  these  altars !  On  this  occasion, 
group  together — for  we  can  do  it  with  propriety — the  highest  quali- 
ties of  an  excellent  nature,  and  to  the  glory  of  truth,  exhibit  in  a 
Prince  universally  admired  whatever  constitutes  the  hero  and  car- 


FUNERAL    ORATION.  25 

lies  the  glory  of  the  world  to  the  loftiest  eminence,  valor,  magnan  - 
imitj,  and  natural  goodness — qualities  of  the  heart ;  vivacity  and 
penetration,  grandeur  of  thought,  and  sublimity  of  genius — qualities  of 
the  intellect ;  all  would  be  nothing  but  an  illusion  if  piety  were  not 
added — piety,  which  indeed  is  the  whole  of  man  !  This  it  is,  messieurs, 
which  you  see  in  the  life,  eternally  memorable,  of  the  high  and  illus- 
trious Prince  Louis  Bourbon,  Prince  of  Condc,  Prince  of  the  blood ! 
God  has  revealed  to  us  that  E[e  alone  makes  conquerors,  that  He 
alone  causes  them  to  subserve  His  designs.  Who  made  Cyrus  but 
God,  who,  in  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah,  named  him  two  hundred 
years  before  his  birth  ?  "  Thou  hast  not  known  Me,"  said  He  to 
him,  "  but  I  have  even  called  thee  by  thy  name,  and  surnamed 
thee.  I  will  go  before  thee  and  make  the  crooked  places  straight ;  I 
will  break  in  pieces  the  gates  of  brass,  and  cut  in  sunder  the  bars  of 
iron.  I  am  the  Lord,  and  there  is  none  else,  there  is  no  God  beside 
Me.  I  form  the  light  and  create  darkness  ;"  as  if  He  had  said,  "  I 
the  Lord  do  every  thing,  and  from  eternity  know  every  thing  that  I 
do."  Who  could  have  formed  an  Alexander  but  the  same  God  who 
made  him  visible  from  afar  to  the  prophet  Daniel,  and  revealed  by 
such  vivid  images  his  unconquerable  ardor  ?  "  See,"  said  He,  "  that 
conqueror,  with  what  rapidity  he  advances  from  the  west,  as  it  were 
by  bounds  and  without  touching  the  earth."  Eesembling,  in  his 
bold  movements  and  rapid  march,  certain  vigorous  and  bounding 
animals,  he  advances,  only  by  quick  and  impetuous  attacks,  and  is 
arrested  neither  by  mountains  nor  precipices.  Already  the  King  of 
Persia  falls  into  his  power.  At  sight  of  him,  he  is  "  moved  with 
anger — rushes  upon  him,  stamps  him  under  his  feet ;  none  can  de- 
fend him  from  his  attacks,  or  deliver  him  out  of  his  hand."  Listen- 
ing only  to  these  words  of  Daniel,  whom  do  you  expect  to  see  under 
that  image — Alexander  or  the  Prince  of  Conde  ?  God  had  given 
him  that  indomitable  valor  for  the  salvation  of  France  during  the 
minority  of  a  king  of  four  years.  But  let  that  king,  cherished  of 
heaven,  advance  in  life,  every  thing  will  yield  to  his  exploits. 
Equally  superior  to  his  friends  and  his  enemies,  he  will  hasten  now 
to  employ,  now  to  surpass  his  most  distinguished  generals ;  and 
■under  the  hand  of  God,  who  will  ever  befriend  him,  he  will  be  ac- 
knowledged the  firm  bulwark  of  his  kingdom.  But  God  had 
chosen  the  Duke  d'Enghien*  to  defend  him  in  his  childhood.  Thus, 
during  the  first  years  of  his  reign,  the  Duke  conceived  a  design  which 
the  most  experienced  veterans  could  not  achieve  ;  but  victory  justi- 
fied it  before  Rocroy  !  True,  the  hostile  army  is  the  stronger.  It  is 
*  The  original  name  of  the  Prince  of  Conde. 


26  JAMES  benign:^  bossuet. 

composed  of  those  old  bands  of  Yalonnaise,  Italians,  and  Spaniards, 
wliicli  never  till  then  were  broken.  But  how  much  could  be  counted 
on  the  courage  which  inspired  our  troops,  the  pressing  necessity  of 
the  state,  past  advantages,  and  a  Prince  of  the  blood  who  carried 
victory  in  his  eyes !  Don  Francisco  de  Mellos  steadily  waits  his  ap- 
proach ;  and,  without  the  possibility  of  retreating,  the  two  generals 
and  their  armies  had  chosen  to  shut  themselves  in  by  woods  and 
marshes,  in  order  to  decide  their  quarrels  like  two  warriors,  in  close 
combat.  Then,  what  was  seen  ?  The  young  Prince  appeared  an- 
other man  !  Moved  by  so  great  an  object,  his  mighty  soul  revealed 
itself  entire ;  his  courage  increased  with  his  peril,  his  sagacity  with 
his  ardor.  During  the  night,  which  must  be  spent  in  presence  of  the 
enemy,  like  a  vigilant  general,  he  was  the  last  to  retire ;  yet  never 
did  he  repose  more  peacefully.  In  the  prospect  of  so  great  a  day, 
and  his  first  battle,  he  is  tranquil;  so  much  is  he  in  his  element;  for 
well  is  it  known  that  on  the  morrow,  at  the  appointed  time,  he 
must  awake  from  his  profound  slumber — another  Alexander !  See 
him,  as  he  flies,  either  to  victory  or  to  death.  As  soon  as  he  has 
conveyed  from  rank  to  rank  the  ardor  which  animates  himself,  he  is 
seen,  almost  at  the  same  time,  attacking  the  right  wing  of  the  ene- 
my ;  sustaining  ours  about  to  give  way  ;  now  rallying  the  half-sub- 
dued Frenchman,  now  putting  to  flight  the  victorious  Spaniard; 
carrying  terror  every  where,  and  confounding- with  his  lightning 
glance  those  who  had  escaped  his  blows.  But  that  formidable  in- 
fantry of  the  Spanish  army,  whose  heavy  and  wedged  battalions, 
resembling  so  many  towers — towers  which  had  succeeded  in  repair- 
ing their  breaches — remained  immovable  in  the  midst  of  all  others 
in  disorder,  and  from  all  sides  kept  up  a  steady  fire.  Thrice  the 
young  conqueror  attempted  to  break  these  intrepid  warriors  ;  thrice 
was  he  repulsed  by  the  valorous  Count  de  Fontaine,  who  was  borne 
in  his  carriage,  and,  notwithstanding  his  infirmities,  proved  that  the 
warrior  spirit  is  master  of  the  body  which  it  animates.  In  vain 
does  Bek,  with  his  fresh  cavalry,  endeavor  to  rush  through  the  wood 
to  fall  on  our  exhausted  soldiers ;  the  Prince  has  prevented  him ; 
the  routed  battalions  demand  quarter  :  but  victory  is  more  disas- 
trous to  the  Duke  d'Enghien  than  conflict  itself.  As  he  advances 
with  an  assured  air  to  receive  the  parole  of  those  brave  men,  they, 
ever  on  their  guard,  are  seized  with  the  fear  of  being  surprised  by  a 
new  attack  ; — their  terrible  discharge  renders  our  army  furious ; 
nothing  is  seen  but  carnage  ;  blood  maddens  the  soldier  ;  until  that 
great  Prince,  who  could  not  slaughter  those  lions  like  timid  sheep, 
calmed  their  excited  courage,  and  joined  to  the  pleasure  of  conquer- 


FUNERAL    ORATION.  27 

ing  that  of  pardoning  liis  enemies.  What  then  was  the  astonishment 
of  those  veteran  troops  and  their  brave  officers,  when  they  saw  that 
there  was  no  safety  but  in  the  arms  of  the  conqueror  !  With  what 
wonder  did  they  look  upon  that  young  Prince,  whose  victory  had 
enhanced  his  lofty  bearing,  and  whose  clemency  added  to  it  a  new 
charm !  Ah,  how  willingly  would  he  have  saved  the  brave  Duke 
de  Fontaine  !  But  he  was  found  prostrate  among  thousands  of  the 
dead,  of  whom  Spain  yet  feels  the  loss.  She  knew  not  that  the 
Prince  who  had  destroyed  so  many  of  her  veteran  regiments  on  the 
field  of  Kocroy,  would  complete  their  subjugation  on  the  j^lains  of 
Lens.  Thus  the  first  victory  was  the  pledge  of  many  more.  The 
Prince  bends  the  knee,  and  on  the  battle-field  renders  back  to 
the  God  of  armies  the  glory  which  He  had  conferred.  There 
they  celebrated  Eocroy  delivered,  the  threatenings  of  a  formidable 
army  turned  to  shame,  the  regency  established,  France  in  repose, 
and  a  reign,  destined  to  such  prosperity,  begun  by  an  omen  so 
happy.  The  army  commenced  the  thanksgiving  :  all  France  fol- 
lowed. The  first  achievement  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien  was  extolled 
to  the  skies.  Such  an  event  was  enough  to  render  illustrious  any 
other  life  ;  but  in  his  case,  it  was  but  the  first  step  in  his  career. 

From  that  first  campaign,  after  the  taking  of  Thionville,  noble 
fruit  of  the  victory  at  Rocroy,  he  passed  for  a  general  equally  invinc- 
ible in  sieges  and  battles.  But  observe  in  this  young  Prince  what 
is  not  less  beautiful  than  victory.  The  court,  which  had  prepared 
for  him  the  applause  which  he  merited,  was  astonished  at  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  received  it.  The  queen-regent  testified  to  him  that 
the  king  was  satisfied  with  his  services.  In  the  mouth  of  the  sov- 
ereign, that  was  a  recompense  worthy  of  his  toils.  But  if  others 
ventured  to  praise  him,  he  rejected  their  praises  as  offensive.  In- 
tractable to  flattery,  he  dreaded  its  very  appearance.  Such  was  the 
delicacy,  or  rather  such  was  the  good  sense  of  the  Prince.  His  maxim 
was — and  you  will  please  to  notice  it,  for  it  is  the  maxim  which 
makes  great  men^ — that  in  great  actions  pur  only  care  ought  to  be  to 
perform  well  our  part,  and  let  glory  follow  virtue.  This  he  inspired 
in  others,  this  he  foUoived  himself,  so  that  he  was  never  tempted  by 
false  glory ;  every  thing  in  him  tended  to  the  true  and  the  great. 
Whence  it  followed  that  he  placed  his  glory  in  the  service  of  the 
king  and  the  prosperity  of  the  state.  This  was  the  fundamental 
principle  of  his  life — this  engrossed  his  last  and  most  cherished 
feelings.  The  court  could  scarcely  hold  him,  though  he  was  the 
object  of  its  admiration.  He  must  show  himself  every  where,  to 
Germany  as  to  Flanders,  the  intrepid  defender  given  us  by  God. 


28  JAMES    BENIGNfi    BOSSUET. 

Here  direct  your  special  attention !  A  contest  awaits  the  Prince 
more  formidable  tlian  Eocroy  :  to  prove  his  virtue,  war  is  about  to 
exhaust  all  its  inventions,  all  its  efforts.  What  object  jiresents  itself 
to  my  eyes  ?  Not  only  men  to  combat,  but  inaccessible  mountains, 
ravines,  and  precipices  on  one  side ;  on  the  other  an  impenetrable 
wood,  the  bottom  of  which  is  a  marsh  ;  behind,  streams  and  prodig- 
ious intrenchments ;  every  where  lofty  forts,  and  leveled  forests 
traversed  by  frightful  roads ;  in  the  midst  Merci  with  his  brave 
Bavarians,  flushed  with  such  distinguished  success,  and  the  taking 
of  Fribourg ; — Merci,  whom  the  Prince  of  Conde  and  the  vigilant 
Turenne  had  never  surprised  in  an  irregular  movement,  and  to 
whom  they  rendered  the  distinguished  testimony  that  he  never  lost 
a  favorable  opportunity,  and  never  failed  to  foresee  their  plans,  as 
if  he  had  assisted  at  their  councils.  Here,  during  eight  days,  and  in 
four  different  attacks,  was  seen  all  that  could  be  endured  and  under- 
taken  in  war.  Our  troops  seemed  disheartened  as  much  by  the  re- 
sistance of  the  enemy  as  by  the  frightful  disposition  of  the  ground ; 
and  the  Prince  at  times  saw  himself  almost  abandoned.  But  like 
another  Maccabeus,  "  his  own  arm  never  failed  him ;"  and  his  cour- 
age, excited  by  so  many  perils,  "  brought  him  succor."  No  sooner 
was  he  seen  the  first  to  force  those  inaccessible  heights,  than  his 
ardor  drew  all  others  after  him.  Merci  sees  his  destruction  certain  : 
his  best  regiments  are  defeated ;  the  night  saves  the  remains  of  his 
army.  But  what  excessive  rains  also  come  to  the  enemy's  aid,  so 
that  we  have  at  once  not  only  courage  and  art,  but  all  nature  to 
contend  with ;  what  advantage  of  this  is  taken  by  a  bold  and  dex- 
terous enemy,  and  in  what  frightful  mountain  does  he  anew  intrench 
himself!  But,  beaten  on  all  sides,  he  must  leave,  as  booty  to  the 
Duke  d'Enghien,  not  only  his  cannon  and  baggage,  but  also  all  the 
regions  bordering  on  the  Ehine.  See  how  the  whole  gives  way.  In 
ten  days  Philisbourg  is  reduced,  notwithstanding  the  approach  of 
winter,  Philisbourg,  which  so  long  held  the  Ehine  captive  under  our 
laws,  and  whose  loss  the  most  illustrious  of  kings  has  so  gloriously 
repaired.  Worms,  Spire,  Mayence,  Landau,  and  twenty  other  places 
of  note  open  their  gates.  Merci  can  not  defend  them,  and  no  longer 
appears  before  his  conqueror.  But  this  is  not  enough  ;  he  must  fall 
at  his  feet,  a  victim  worthy  of  his  valor :  Nordlingen  shall  see  his 
fall ; — then  shall  it  be  decided  that  their  enemies  can  not  stand  be- 
fore the  French,  either  in  Germany  or  Flanders ;  and  there  shall  it 
be  seen,  that  to  the  Prince  all  these  advantages  are  due.  God,  the 
Protector  of  France  and  of  a  king,  whom  He  has  destined  for  His 
mighty  works,  ordains  it  thus. 


FUNERAL    ORATION.  29 

Bj  sucTi  arrangements,  every  thing  appeared  safe  under  the  con- 
duct of  tlie  Duke  d'Engliien  ;  and  without  wishing  to  spend  the  day 
in  recounting  his  other  exploits,  you  know  that  among  so  many 
places  attacked  not  one  escaped  his  hands ;  and  thus  the  glory  of  the 
Prince  continued  to  rise.  Europe,  which  admired  the  noble  ardor 
by  which  he  was  animated  in  his  battles,  was  astonished  to  perceive 
that  he  had  perfect  self-control ;  and  that  at  the  age  of  twenty-six 
years,  he  was  as  capable  of  managing  his  troops,  as  of  urging  them 
into  perils  ;  of  yielding  to  fortune,  as  of  causing  it  to  subserve  his 
designs.  In  all  situations  he  ai3pears  to  us  one  of  those  extraordi- 
nary men  who  force  all  obstacles.  The  promptitude  of  his  action 
leaves  no  time  for  its  contravention.  Such  is  the  character  of  con- 
querors. When  David,  himself  a  great  warrior,  deplored  the  death 
of  two  captains,  he  gave  them  this  eulogy :  "  They  were  swifter 
than  eagles,  they  were  stronger  than  lions."  Such  is  the  very  image 
of  the  Prince  whom  we  deplore.  Like  lightning,  he  appeared  at 
the  same  time  in  different  and  distant  places.  He  was  seen  in  all  at- 
tacks, in  all  quarters.  "When  occupied  on  one  side,  he  sends  to  re- 
connoitre the  other ;  the  active  of&cer  who  conveys  his  orders  is  an- 
ticipated, and  finds  all  reanimated  by  the  presence  of  the  Prince. 
He  seems  to  multiply  himself  in  action  ;  neither  fire  nor  steel  arrests 
his  progress.  No  need  has  he  to  arm  his  head  exposed  to  so  many 
perils ;  Grod  is  his  assured  armor ;  blows  lose  their  force  as  they 
reach  him,  and  leaves  behind  only  the  tokens  of  his  courage  and,  of 
the  protection  of  Heaven.  Tell  him  not  that  the  life  of  the  first 
Prince  of  the  blood,  so  necessary  to  the  state,  ought  to  be  spared ; 
he  answers  that  such  a  Prince,  more  interested  by  his  birth  in  the 
glory  of  the  king  and  crown,  ought,  in  the  extremity  of  the  state, 
more  readily  than  all  others  to  devote  himself  to  its  recovery.  After 
having  made  his  enemies,  during  so  many  years,  feel  the  invincible 
power  of  the  king ;  were  it  asked,  What  did  he  do  to  sustain  it  at 
home  ?  I  would  answer,  in  a  word,  he  made  the  Eegent  respected.* 
And  since  it  is  proper  for  me  once  for  all,  to  speak  of  those  things 
respecting  which  I  desire  to  be  forever  silent, f  it  may  be  stated,  that 
up  to  the  time  of  that  unfortunate  imprisonment,  he  had  never 
dreamed  that  it  was  possible  for  him  to  attempt  any  thing  against 
the  state  ;  and  to  his  honor  be  it  said,  if  he  desired  to  secure  a  rec- 
ompense, he  desired  still  more  to  merit  it.  It  was  this  which  caused 
him  to  say — and  here  I  can  confidently  repeat  his  words,  which  I  re- 

*  The  Queeu-Mother,  who  was  regent  during  the  minority  of  Louis  XIV. 
•f-  Bossuet  here  refers  to  the  part  taken  by  the  Prince  of  Conde  m  the  civil  war  of  the 
Fronde. 


30  JAMES    BENIGNfi   BOSSUJET. 

ceived  from  liis  own  lips,  and  whicli  so  strikingly  indicate  liis  true 
disposition — that  "  he  had  entered  that  prison  the  most  innocent  of 
men,  and  that  he  had  issued  from  it  the  most  culpable.  Alas !"  said 
he,  "  I  lived  only  for  the  service  of  the  king,  and  the  honor  of  the 
state."  "Words  which  indicate  a  sincere  regret  for  having  been  car- 
ried so  far  by  his  misfortunes.  But  without  excusing  what  he  him- 
self so  strongly  condemned,  let  us  say,  so  that  it  ma}''  never  again  be 
mentioned,  that  as  in  celestial  glory,  the  faults  of  holy  penitents, 
covered  by  what  they  have  done  to  repair  them,  and  the  infinite 
compassion  of  God,  never  more  appear ;  so  in  the  faults  so  sincerely 
acknowledged,  and  in  the  end  so  gloriously  repaired  by  faithful  serv- 
ices, nothing  ought  to  be  remembered  but  the  penitence  of  the 
Prince,  and  the  clemency  of  his  sovereign  who  has  forgotten  them. 

However  much  he  was  involved  in  those  unfortunate  wars,  he 
has  at  least  this  glory,  never  to  have  permitted  the  grandeur  of  his 
House  to  be  tarnished  among  strangers.  JSTotwithstanding  the 
majesty  of  the  Empire,  the  pride  of  Austria,  and  the  hereditary 
crowns  attached  to  that  House,  particularly  in  the  branch  which  reigns 
in  Germany  ;  even  when  a  refugee  at  Namur,  and  sustained  only  by 
his  courage  and  reputation,  he  urged  the  claims  of  a  Prince  of  France 
and  of  the  first  family  in  the  world  so  far  that  all  that  could  be  ob- 
tained from  him  was  his  consent  to  treat  upon  equality  with  the 
Archduke,  through  a  brother  of  the  Emperor,  and  the  descendant 
of  so  many  Emperors,  on  condition  that  the  Prince  in  the  third  de- 
gree, should  wear  the  honors  of  the  "  Low  Countries."  The  same 
treatment  was  secured  to  the  Duke  d'Enghien ;  and  the  House  of 
France  maintained  its  rank  over  that  of  Austria  even  in  Brussels. 
But  mark  what  constitutes  true  courage.  While  the  Prince  bore 
himself  so  loftily  with  the  Archduke  who  governed,  he  rendered  to 
the  King  of  England  and  the  Duke  of  York,  now  so  great  a  monarch, 
but  then  unfortunate,  all  the  honors  which  were  their  due;  and 
finally  he  taught  Spain,  too  disdainful,  what  that  majesty  was  which 
misfortune  could  not  tear  from  princes.  The  rest  of  his  conduct 
was  not  less  distinguished.  Amid  the  difficulties  which  his  interests 
introduced  into  the  Treaty  of  the  Pyrenees,  hear  what  were  his 
orders,  and  see  whether  any  one  ever  acted  so  nobly,  with  reference 
to  his  own  interests.  He  wrote  to  his  agents  in  the  conference,  that 
it  was  not  right  that  the  peace  of  Christendom  should  be  postponed 
for  his  sake ;  that  they  might  take  care  of  his  friends,  but  must 
leave  him  to  his  fate.  Ah,  what  a  noble  victim  thus  sacrificed  him- 
self for  the  public  good !  But  when  things  changed,  and  Spain  was 
willing  to  give  him  either  Cambray  and  its  environs,  or  Luxembourg 


FUNERAL    ORATION.  31 

in  full  sovereignty ;  he  declared  tliat  to  these  advantages,  and  all  others, 
however  great,  which  they  could  give  him,  he  preferred — what? 
His  duty  and  the  good  will  of  the  king !  This  formed  the  ruling 
passion  of  his  heart.  This  he  was  incessantly  repeating  to  the  Duke 
d'Enghien,  his  son.  Thus  did  he  appear  himself !  France  beheld 
him,  in  these  last  traits,  returning  to  her  bosom  Avith  a  character  en- 
nobled by  suffering,  and  more  than  ever  devoted  to  his  king  and 
country.  But  in  those  first  wars  he  had  but  one  life  to  offer;  now 
he  has  another  which  is  dearer  to  him  than  his  own.  After  having, 
under  his  father's  example,  nobly  finished  his  studies,  the  Duke 
d'Enghien  is  ready  to  follow  him  to  the  battle-field.  Not  content 
with  teaching  him  the  art  of  war  by  his  instructions,  he  conducts 
him  to  living  lessons  and  actual  practice.  Leave  wc  the  passage  of 
the  Ehine,  the  wonder  of  our  age,  and  the  life  of  Louis  the  Great. 
In  the  field  of  Senef,  although  he  commanded,  as  he  had  already 
done  in  other  campaigns,  he  learned  war  by  the  side  of  his  father,  in 
the  most  terrible  conflicts.  In  the  midst  of  so  many  perils,  he  sees 
the  Prince  thrown  dowm  in  a  trench,  under  a  horse  covered  with 
blood.  While  offering  him  his  own  and  raising  him  from  the  trench, 
he  is  wounded  in  the  arms  of  his  affectionate  father,  but  without  dis- 
continuing his  kind  offices,  delighted  with  the  opportunity  of  satis- 
fying at  once  his  filial  piety  and  love  of  glory.  How  could  the 
Prince  fail  to  think  that  nothing  was  wanting  to  that  noble  son  but 
opportunities,  to  achieve  the  greatest  things.  Moreover  his  tender- 
ness increased  with  his  esteem. 

But  not  only  for  his  son  and  his  family  did  he  cherish  such  ten- 
der sentiments.  I  have  seen  him  (and  do  not  imagine  that  I  exag- 
gerate here)  deeply  moved  with  the  perils  of  his  friends ;  I  have 
seen  him,  simple  and  natural,  change  color  at  the  recital  of  their  mis- 
fortunes, entering  into  their  minutest  as  well  as  most  important 
affairs,  reconcihng  contending  parties,  and  calming  angry  spirits 
with  a  patience  and  gentleness  which  could  never  have  been  expected 
from  a  temper  so  sensitive,  and  a  rank  so  high.  Far  from  us  be 
heroes  without  humanity !  As  in  the  case  of  all  extraordinary 
things,  they  might  force  our  respect  and  seduce  our  admiration,  but 
they  could  never  win  our  love.  When  God  formed  the  heart  of 
man  He  planted  goodness  there,  as  the  proper  characteristic  of  the 
Divine  nature,  and  the  mark  of  that  beneficent  hand  from  which  we 
sprang.  Goodness,  then,  ought  to  be  the  principal  element  of  our 
character,  and  the  great  means  of  attracting  the  affection  of  others. 
Greatness,  which  supervenes  upon  this,  so  far  from  diminishing 
goodness,  ought  only  to  enable  it,  like  a  public  fountain,  to  diffuse 


82  JAMES    BENIGN^    BOSSUET. 

itself  more  extensively.  This  is  the  price  of  hearts !  For  the  great, 
whose. goodness  is  not  diffusive,  as  a  just  punishment  of  their  haughty 
indifference,  remain  forever  deprived  of  the  greatest  good  of  life,  the 
fellowship  of  kindred  souls.  Never  did  man  enjoy  this  more  than 
the  Prince  of  whom  we  are  speaking.  Never  did  one  less  fear  that 
familiarity  would  diminish  respect.  Is  this  the  man  that  stormed 
cities  and  gained  battles  ?  Have  I  forgotten  the  high  rank  he  knew 
so  well  to  defend.  Let  us  acknowledge  the  hero,  who,  always  equal 
to  himself,  without  rising  to  appear  great,  or  descending  to  be  civil 
and  kind,  naturally  appeared  every  thing  that  he  ought  to  be  toward 
all  men,  like  a  majestic  and  beneficent  river,  which  peacefully  con- 
vej^s  from  city  to  city,  the  abundance  which  it  has  spread  through 
the  countries  which  it  waters ;  which  flows  for  the  benefit  of  all,  and 
rises  and  swells  only  when  some  violent  opposition  is  made  to  the 
gentle  current  which  bears  it  on  its  tranquil  course.  Such  was  the 
gentleness  and  such  the  energy  of  the  Prince  of  Conde.  Have  you 
an  important  secret ?  Confide  it  freely  to  that  noble  heart;  your 
affair  becomes  his  by  that  confidence.  Nothing  was  more  inviolable 
to  that  Prince  than  the  rights  of  friendship.  When  a  favor  was 
asked  of  him,  it  was  he  that  appeared  obliged ;  and  never  was  his 
joy  so  natural  or  lively,  as  when  he  conferred  pleasure  upon  others. 
The  first  money  which,  by  the  permission  of  the  king,  he  received 
from  Spain,  notwithstanding  the  necessities  of  his  exhausted  house, 
was  given  to  his  friends,  although  he  had  nothing  to  hope  froni  their 
friendship  after  the  peace.  Four  hundred  thousand  crowns,  distrib- 
uted by  his  orders — rare  instance  of  generosity — showed  that  grati- 
tude was  as  powerful  in  the  Prince  of  Conde  as  selfishness  is  in  most 
men.  With  him  virtue  was  ever  its  own  reward.  He  praised  it 
even  in  his  enemies.  Whenever  he  had  occasion  to  speak  of  his 
actions,  and  even  in  the  communications  which  he  sent  to  the  court, 
he  extolled  the  wise  counsels  of  one,  and  the  courage  of  another ; 
the  merits  of  none  were  overlooked ;  and  in  his  anxiety  to  do  others 
justice  he  never  seemed  to  find  a  place  for  what  he  had  done  him- 
self Without  envy,  without  disguise  or  pretension ;  equally  great 
in  action  and  in  repose,  he  appeared  at  Chantilly  as  he  did  at  the 
head  of  his  troops.  Whether  he  embellished  that  magnificent  and 
charming  home,  whether  he  planted  his  camp,  or  fortified  a  place  in 
the  midst  of  a  hostile  country — whether  he  marched  with  an  army 
amid  perils,  or  conducted  his  friends  through  superb  alleys  to  the 
noise  of  falling  fountains  silent  neither  by  day  nor  night,  he  was 
always  the  same  man ;  his  glory  followed  him  every  where.  How 
delightful,  after  the  contest  and  tumult  of  arms,  to  be  able  to  relish 


FUNERAL    ORATION.  gg 

those  peaceful  virtues,  and  that  tranquil  glory  -wMcli  none  can  share 
witli  the  soldier  more  than  with  fortune ;  where  one  can  pursue  the 
great  end  of  life  without  being  stunned  with  the  noise  of  trumpets, 
the  roar  of  cannons,  or  the  cries  of  the  wounded ;  and  when  all 
alone,  man  appears  as  great,  and  as  worthy  of  respect  as  when  he 
gives  the  word  of  command,  and  whole  armies  do  his  bidding. 

Let  us  now  look  at  the  qualities  of  his  intellect ;  and  since,  alas ! 
that  which  is  most  fatal  to  human  life,  namely,  the  military  art, 
admits  of  the  greatest  genius  and  talent,  let  us  in  the  first  place  con- 
sider the  great  genius  of  the  Prince  with  reference  to  that  depart- 
ment. And  in  the  first  place  what  general  ever  displayed  such  far- 
reaching  foresight  ?  One  of  his  maxims  was,  that  we  ought  to  fear 
enemies  at  a  distance,  in  order  not  to  fear  them  near  at  hand — nay 
more,  to  rejoice  in  their  approach.  See,  as  he  considers  all  the 
advantages  which  he  can  give  or  take,  with  what  rapidity  he  com- 
prehends times,  places,  persons,  and  not  only  their  interests  and  tal- 
ents, but  even  their  humors  and  caprices !  See  how  he  estimates 
the  cavalry  and  infantry  of  his  enemies,  by  the  nature  of  the  country, 
or  the  resources  of  the  confederated  princes  !  Nothing  escapes  his 
penetration.  With  what  prodigious  comprehension  of  the  entire 
details  and  general  plan  of  the  war,  he  is  ever  n^wake  to  the  occur- 
rence of  the  slightest  incident ;  drawing  from  a  deserter,  a  prisoner, 
a  passer-by,  what  he  wishes  him  to  say  or  to  conceal,  what  he  knows, 
and,  so  to  speak,  what  he  does  not  know,  so  certain  is  he  in  his  con- 
clusions. His  patrols  repeat  to  him  the  slightest  things :  he  is  ever 
on  the  watch,  for  he  holds  it  as  a  maxim,  that  an  able  general  may 
be  vanquished,  but  ought  never  to  suffer  himself  to  be  surprised. 
And  it  is  due  to  him  to  say  that  this  never  occurred  in  his  case.  At 
whatever,  or  from  whatever  quarter  his  enemies  come,  they  find  him 
on  his  guard,  always  ready  to  fall  upon  them,  and  take  advantage 
of  their  position  ;  like  an  eagle,  which,  whether  soaring  in  mid  air,, 
or  perched  upon  the  summit  of  some  lofty  rock,  sweeps  the  land- 
scape with  his  piercing  eyes,  and  falls  so  surely  upon  his  prey,  that 
it  can  neither  escape  his  talons,  nor  his  lightning  glance.  So  keen 
his  perception,  so  quick  and  impetuous  his  attack,  so  strong  and  irre- 
sistible the  hands  of  the  Prince  of  Conde.  In  his  camp  vain  terrors, 
which  fatigue  and  discourage  more  than  real  ones,  are  unknown. 
All  strength  remains  entire  for  true  perils  ;  all  is  ready  at  the  first 
signal,  and  as  saith  the  prophet,  "All  arrows  are  sharpened,  all  bows 
bent."  While  waiting,  he  enjojs  as  sound  repose  as  he  would  under 
his  own  roof.  Eepose,  did  I  say  ?  At  Pieton,  in  the  presence  of 
that  formidable  army  which  three  united  powers  had  assembled,  our 

3 


34  JAMES    BENIGN^    BOSSUET. 

troops  indulged  in  constant  amusements,  tlie  whole  army  was  rejoic- 
ing, and  never  for  a  moment  felt  that  it  was  weaker  than  the  enemy. 
The  Prince,  by  the  disposition  of  his  army,  had  put  in  safety,  not 
only  our  whole  frontier,  and  all  our  stations,  but  also  our  soldiers ; 
he  watches — that  is  enough  !  At  last  the  enemy  moves  off — pre- 
cisely what  the  Prince  expected.  At  their  first  movement  he 
starts ;  the  army  of  Holland,  with  its  proud  standards,  is  already 
in  his  power — blood  flows  every  where — the  whole  becomes  his 
jDrey.  But  God  knows  how  to  limit  the  best  formed  plans.  The 
enemy  is  every  where  scattered.  Oudenarde  is  delivered  out  of 
their  hands;  but  they  themselves  are  saved  out  of  those  of  the 
Prince  by  a  dense  cloud,  which  covers  the  heavens ;  terror  and 
desertion  enter  the  troops  ;  none  can  tell  what  has  become  of  that 
formidable  arm}'.  Then  it  was  that  Louis,  after  having  accomplished 
the  rude  siege  of  Besangon,  and  once  more  reduced  Franche  Comte, 
with  unparalleled  rapidity,  returned,  irradiated  with  glory,  to  profit 
by  the  action  of  his  armies  in  Flanders  and  Germany,  and  com- 
manded the  army  which  performed  such  prodigies  in  Alsace  ;  thus 
appearing  the  greatest  of  heroes,  as  much  by  his  personal  exploits,  as 
by  those  of  his  generals. 

AVhile  a  happy  disposition  imparted  such  noble  traits  to  our 
Prince,  he  never  ceased  to  enrich  it  by  reflection.  The  campaigns 
of  Ca3sar  formed  the  subject  of  his  study.  Well  do  I  recollect  how 
much  he  interested  us  by  indicating,  with  all  the  precision  of  a  cata- 
logue, the  place  where  that  celebrated  general,  by  the  advantageous 
nature  of  his  positions,  compelled  five  Roman  legions,  and  two  expe- 
rienced leaders,  to  lay  down  their  arms  without  a  struggle.  He 
himself  had  explored  the  rivers  and  mountains  which  aided  in  the 
accomplishment  of  that  grand  result ;  and  never  before  had  so 
accomplished  a  teacher  explained  the  Commentaries  of  Ciesar.  The 
generals  of  a  future  age  will  render  him  the  same  homage.  They 
will  be  seen  studying  in  the  places  where  it  took  place,  what  history 
will  relate  of  the  encampment  of  Pieton,  and  the  wonders  that  fol- 
lowed. They  will  notice,  in  that  of  Chatenoy,  the  eminence  occu- 
pied by  that  great  captain,  and  the  stream  where  he  covered  himself 
from  the  cannon  of  the  iutrenchments  of  Selestad.  Then  will  they 
see  him  putting  Germany  to  shame — now  pursuing  his  enemies, 
though  stronger ;  now  counteracting  their  schemes ;  and  now  caus- 
ing them  to  raise  the  siege  of  Saverne,  as  he  had  that  of  Haguenau, 
a  little  while  before.  It  was  by  strokes  like  these,  of  which  his  life 
is  full,  that  he  carried  his  fame  to  such  a  height  that  in  the  present 
day  it  is  one  of  the  highest  honors  to  have  served  in  the  army  of  the 


FUNERAL    ORATION.  35 

Prince  of  Conde,  and  even  a  title  to  command  to  have  seen  liim  per- 
form that  duty. 

But  if  ever  lie  appeared  great,  and  by  his  wondrous  self-possess- 
ion, superior  to  all  exigencies,  it  was  in  those  critical  moments  upon 
which  victory  turns,  and  in  the  deepest  ardor  of  battle.  In  all  other 
circumstances  he  deliberates — docile,  he  lends  an  ear  to  the  counsels 
of  all ;  but  here  every  thing  is  presented  to  him  at  once ;  the  multi- 
plicity of  objects  confounds  him  not ;  in  an  instant  his  part  is  taken ; 
he  commands,  he  acts  together ;  every  thing  is  made  to  subserve  his 
purpose.  Shall  I  add,  for  why  fear  the  reputation  of  so  great  a  man 
should  be  diminished  by  the  acknowledgment,  that  he  was  distin- 
guished not  only  by  his  quick  sallies  which  he  knew  so  promptly 
and  agreeably  to  repair,  but  that  he  sometimes  appeared,  on  ordinary 
occasions,  as  if  he  had  in  him  another  nature,  to  which  his  great  soul 
abandoned  minor  details,  in  which  he  himself  deigned  not  to  mingle. 
In  the  fire,  the  shock,  the  confusion  of  battle,  all  at  once  sprung  up 
in  him — I  know  not  what  firmness  and  clearness,  what  ardor  and 
grace — so  attractive  to  his  friends,  so  terrible  to  his  enemies — a  com- 
bination of  qualities  and  contrasts,  at  once  singular  and  striking.  In 
that  terrible  engagement,  when  before  the  gates  of  the  city,  and  in 
the  sight  of  the  citizens,  Heaven  seemed  to  decide  the  fate  of  the 
Prince ;  when  he  had  against  him  choice  troops  and  a  powerful  gen- 
eral— when,  more  than  once,  he  saw  himself  exposed  to  the  caprices 
of  fortune — when,  in  a  word,  he  was  attacked  on  every  side,  those 
who  were  fighting  near  him  have  told  us  that  if  they  had  an  affair 
of  importance  to  transact  with  him,  they  would  have  chosen  for  it 
that  very  moment  when  the  fires  of  battle  were  raging  around  him ; 
so  much  did  his  spirit  appear  elevated  above  them,  and,  as  it  were, 
inspired  in  such  terrible  encounters ;  like  those  lofty  mountains, 
whose  summits,  rising  above  clouds  and  storms,  find  their  serenity 
in  their  elevation,  and  lose  not  a  single  ray  of  the  light  by  which 
they  are  enveloped.  Thus  on  the  plains  of  Lens,  name  agreeable  to 
France !  the  Archduke,  drawn  contrary  to  his  design  from  an  advan- 
tageous position,  through  the  influence  of  a  false  success,  is  forced, 
by  a  sudden  movement  of  the  Prince,  who  opposes  fresh  troops  to 
those  already  exhausted,  to  take  flight.  His  veteran  troops  perish ; 
his  cannon,  which  he  relied  on,  falls  into  our  hands ;  and  Bek,  who 
had  flattered  himself  with  certain  victory,  taken  and  wounded  in  the 
battle,  renders,  by  his  dying  despair,  a  mournful  homage  to  his  con- 
queror. Is  it  necessary  to  relieve  or  besiege  a  city  ?  The  Prince 
knows  how  to  profit  by  every  opportunity.  Thus,  being  suddenly 
informed  of  an  important  siege,  he  passes  at  once,  by  a  rapid  march. 


36  JAMES    BENIGN^    BOSSUET. 

to  the  place,  and  discovers  a  safe  passage  througli  wliicli  to  give 
relief,  at  a  spot  not  suf&cientlj  fortified  by  the  enemy.  Does  he  lay 
siege  to  a  place  ?  Each  day  he  invents  some  new  means  of  advanc- 
ing its  conquest.  Some  have  thought  that  he  exposed  his  troops ; 
but  he  protected  them  by  abridging  the  time  of  peril  through  the 
vigor  of  his  attacks.  Amid  so  many  surprising  blows  the  most 
courageous  governors  can  not  make  good  theh-  promises  to  their 
generals.  Dunkirk  is  taken  in  thirteen  days  amid  the  rains  of 
autumn  ;  and  those  ships,  so  renowned  among  our  allies,  all  at  once 
appear  upon  the  ocean  with  our  flags. 

But  what  a  wise  general  ought  especially  to  know,  is  his  soldiers 
and  officers.  For  thence  comes  that  perfect  concert  which  enables 
armies  to  act  as  one  body,  or  to  use  the  language  of  Scripture,  "  as 
one  man."  But  how  as  one  man?  Because  under  one  chief,  that 
knows  both  soldiers  and  officers,  as  if  they  were  his  arms  and  hands, 
all  is  equally  animated,  all  is  equally  moved.  This  it  is  which  se- 
cures victory ;  for  I  have  heard  our  great  Prince  say  that,  in  the 
battle  of  Nordlingen,  what  gained  success  was  his  knowledge  of  M. 
de  Turenne,  whose  consummate  genius  needed  no  order  to  perform 
whatever  was  necessary.  The  latter,  on  his  side,  declared  that  he 
acted  without  anxiety,  because  he  knew  the  Prince,  and  his  directions 
which  were  always  safe.  Thus  they  imparted  to  each  other  a  mu- 
tual confidence  which  enabled  them  to  apply  themselves  wholly  to 
their  respective  parts ;  and  thus  happily  ended  the  most  hazardous 
and  keenly  contested  battle  that  was  ever  fought ! 

That  was  a  noble  spectacle  in  our  day  to  behold,  at  the  same 
time,  and  in  the  same  campaign,  these  two  men,  whom  the  common 
voice  of  all  Europe  equaled  to  the  greatest  generals  of  past  ages — 
now  at  the  head  of  separate  troops,  now  united,  yet  more  by  the 
concurrence  of  the  same  thoughts,  than  by  the  orders  which  the  in- 
ferior received  from  the  other ;  now  oj^posed  front  to  front,  and  re- 
doubhng  the  one  in  the  other  activity  and  vigilance ; — as  if  the  Deity, 
whose  wisdom,  according  to  the  Scriptures,  disports  itself  in  the  uni- 
verse, would  show  us  under  what  perfect  forms,  and  with  what 
excellent  qualities  He  can  endow  men.  What  encampments  and 
what  marches !  what  hazards  and  precautions !  what  perils  and  re- 
sources !  Were  ever  in  two  men  seen  the  same  virtues,  with  such 
diverse  not  to  say  contrary  characteristics !  The  one  seemed  to  act 
from  profound  reflection  ;  the  other  from  sudden  illumination ;  the 
latter  consequently  was  more  ardent,  though  by  no  means  precipi- 
tate, while  the  former,  with  an  appearance  of  greater  coolness,  never 
exhibited  any  thing  like  languor — ever  more  ready  to  act  than  to 


FUNERAL    ORATION.  37 

speak,  resolute  and  determined  within,  even  when  he  seemed  hesi- 
tating and  cantions  without.  The  one,  as  soon  as  he  appeared  in  the 
armj,  gave  a  high  idea  of  his  valor,  and  caused  an  expectation  of 
something  extraordinary ;  nevertheless  he  advanced  systematically, 
and  by  degrees  reached  the  prodigies  which  crowned  his  life ;  the 
other,  like  a  man  inspired,  from  his  first  battle  equaled  the  most 
consummate  masters.  The  one  by  his  rapid  and  constant  efforts 
won  the  admiration  of  the  world,  and  silenced  all  envy ;  the  other, 
at  the  very  first,  reflected  such  a  vivid  light  that  none  dared  to 
attack  him.  The  one,  in  fine,  by  the  depth  of  his  genius  and  the 
incredible  resources  of  his  courage,  rose  superior  to  the  greatest 
dangers,  and  profited  even  by  the  infelicities  of  fortune ;  the  other,  at 
once  by  the  advantages  of  his  elevated  birth,  and  the  lofty  thoughts 
by  which  he  was  inspired  from  heaven,  and  especially  by  an  admir- 
able instinct  of  which  men  know  not  the  secret,  seemed  born  to 
draw  fortune  into  his  plans,  and  to  force  destiny  itself.  And  as  in 
their  life,  those  great  men  were  seen  distinguished  by  diverse  charac- 
teristics, so  the  one,  cut  down  by  a  sudden  blow,  like  a  Judas  Mac- 
cabeus, dies  for  his  country ;  the  army  mourns  him  as  a  father ;  the 
court  and  country  are  covered  with  tears ;  his  piety  is  praised  with 
his  courage,  and  his  memory  fades  not  with  time  ;*  the  other,  raised, 
like  a  David,  by  his  arms  to  the  summit  of  glory,  like  him  also  dies 
in  his  bed,  celebrating  the  praises  of  God  and  giving  instructions  to 
his  family,  and  thus  leave  all  hearts  filled  as  much  with  the  splendor 
of  his  life  as  the  serenity  of  his  death.  "What  a  privilege  to  see  and 
to  study  these  great  men,  and  learn  from  each  the  esteem  which  the 
other  merits.  This  has  been  the  spectacle  of  our  age ;  but  what  is 
greater  still,  we  have  seen  a  king  making  use  of  these  great  generals, 
and  enjoying  the  succor  of  heaven ;  and  being  deprived  of  the  one 
by  death,  and  of  the  other  by  his  maladies,  conceiving  the  greatest 
plans,  and  performing  the  noblest  deeds,  rising  above  himself,  sur- 
passing the  hopes  of  his  friends  and  the  expectations  of  the  world ; 
so  lofty  is  his  courage,  so  vast  his  intelligence,  so  glorious  his  destiny.f 
Such,  messieurs,  are  the  spectacles  which  God  gives  to  the  world, 
and  the  men  whom  He  sends  into  it,  to  illustrate,  now  in  one  nation, 
now  in  another,  according  to  His  eternal  counsels,  His  power  and 
His  wisdom.  For,  do  His  Divine  attributes  discover  themselves  more 
clearly  in  the  heavens  which  His  fingers  have  formed,  than  in  the 
rare  talents  which  He  has  distributed,  as  it  pleases  Him,  to  extraor- 
dinary men  ?     "What  star  shines  more  brilliantly  in  the  firmament, 

*  Turenne  was  cut  in  two  by  a  cannon  ball. 

f  This  adulation  of  Louis  XIY.  will  be  taken  at  what  it  is  wortli. 


38  JAMES    BENIGNE    BOSSUET. 

than  the  Prince  de  Conde  has  done  in  Europe  ?  Not  war  alone 
gave  him  renown ;  but  his  resplendent  genius  which  embraced  every 
thing,  ancient  as  well  as  modern,  history,  philosophy,  theology  the 
most  sublime,  the  arts  and  the  sciences.  None  possessed  a  book 
which  he  had  not  read ;  no  man  of  excellence  existed,  with  whom 
he  had  not,  in  some  speculation  or  in  some  work,  conversed ;  all  left 
him  instructed  by  his  penetrating  questions  or  judicious  reflections. 
His  conversation  too,  had  a  charm,  because  he  knew  how  to  s]3eak 
to  every  one  according  to  his  talents ;  not  merely  to  warriors  on  their 
enterprises,  to  courtiers  on  their  interests,  to  politicians  on  their  ne- 
gotiations, but  even  to  curious  travelers  on  their  discoveries  in  na- 
ture, government  or  commerce ;  to  the  artisan  on  his  inventions,  and 
in  fine  to  the  learned  of  all  sorts,  on  their  productions.  That  gifts 
like  these  come  from  God,  who  can  doubt  ?  That  they  are  worthy 
of  admiration,  who  does  not  see?  But  to  confound  the  human  spirit 
which  prides  itself  npon  these  gifts,  God  hesitates  not  to  confer  them 
upon  His  enemies.  St.  Augustin  considers  among  the  heathen,  so 
many  sages,  so  many  conquerors,  so  many  grave  legislators,  so  many 
excellent  citizens — a  Socrates,  a  Marcus  Aurelius,  a  Scipio,  a  Caesar, 
an  Alexander,  all  deprived  of  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  excluded 
from  His  eternal  kingdom.  Is  it  not  God  then  who  has  made  them  ? 
Who  else  could  do  so  but  He  who  made  every  thing  in  heaven,  and 
in  the  earth  ?  But  why  has  He  done  so  ?  what  in  this  case  are  the 
particular  designs  of  that  infinite  wisdom  which  makes  nothing  in 
vain?  Hear  the  response  of  St.  Augustin.  "He  has  made  them," 
says  he,  "that  they  might  adorn  the  present  world."  He  has  made 
the  rare  qualities  of  those  great  men,  as  He  made  the  sun.  Who 
admires  not  that  splendid  luminary  ;  who  is  not  ravished  with  his  mid- 
day radiance,  and  the  gorgeous  beauty  of  his  rising  or  decline  ?  But  as 
God  has  made  it  to  shine  upon  the  evil  and  upon  the  good,  such  an 
object,  beautiful  as  it  is,  can  not  render  us  happy  ;  God  has  made  it  to 
embellish  and  illumine  this  great  theater  of  the  universe.  So  also  when 
He  has  made,  in  His  enemies  as  well  as  in  His  servants,  those  beautiful 
lights  of  the  mind,  those  rays  of  His  intelligence,  those  images  of  His 
goodness  ;  it  is  not  that  these  alone  can  secure  our  happiness.  They 
are  but  a  decoration  of  the  universe,  an  ornament  of  the  age.  See 
moreover  the  melancholy  destiny  of  those  men  who  are  chosen  to  be 
the  ornaments  of  their  age.  What  do  such  rare  men  desire  but  the  praise 
and  the  glory  which  men  can  give  ?  God,  perhaps  to  confound  them 
will  refuse  that  glory  to  their  vain  desires !  No : — He  confounds 
them  rather  by  giving  it  to  them,  and  even  beyond  their  expectation. 
That  Alexander  who  desired  only  to  make  a  noise  in  the  world,  has 


FUNEEAL    ORATION.  39 

made  it  even  more  than  he  dared  to  hope.  Thus  he  must  find  him- 
self in  all  our  panegyrics,  and,  by  a  species  of  glorious  fatality,  so 
to  speak,  partake  of  all  the  praises  conferred  upon  every  prince.  If 
the  great  actions  of  the  Eomans  required  a  recompense,  God  kno\ys 
how  to  bestow  one  correspondent  to  their  merits  as  well  as  their  de- 
sires. For  a  recompense  He  gives  them  the  empire  of  the  world,  as 
a  thing  of  no  value.  0  kings !  humble  yourselves  in  your  great- 
ness :  conquerors,  boast  not  your  victories !  He  gives  them,  for 
recompense,  the  glory  of  men ;  a  recompense  which  never  reaches 
them ;  a  recompense  which  we  endeavor  to  attach  to — what  ?  To 
their  medals  or  their  statues  disinterred  from  the  dust,  the  refuse  of 
years  and  barbarian  violence ;  to  the  ruins  of  their  monuments  and 
works,  which  contend  with  time,  or  rather  to  their  idea,  their 
shadow,  or  what  they  call  their  name !  Such  is  the  glorious  prize 
of  all  their  labors;  such,  in  the  very  attainment  of  their  wishes,  is 
the  conviction  of  their  error !  Come,  satisfy  yourselves,  ye  great 
men  of  earth !  Grasp,  if  you  can,  that  phantom  of  glory,  after  the 
example  of  the  great  men  whom  ye  admire.  God  who  punishes 
their  pride  in  the  regions  of  despair,  euAdes  them  not,  as  St.  Augus- 
tin  says,  that  glory  so  much  desired;  ''vain,  they  have  received  a 
recompense  as  vain  as  tlieir  desires." 

But  not  thus  shall  it  be  with  our  illustrious  Prince.  The  hour 
of  God  is  come ;  hour  anticipated,  hour  desired,  hour  of  mercy  and 
of  grace.  "Without  being  alarmed  by  disease,  or  jDressed  by  time, 
He  executes  what  He  designed.  A  j  udicious  ecclesiastic,  whom  he 
had  expressly  called,  performs  for  him  the  ofiices  of  religion ;  he 
listens,  humble  Christian,  to  his  instructions ;  indeed,  no  one  ever 
doubted  his  good  faith.  From  that  time  he  is  seen  seriously  occu- 
pied with  the  care  of  vanquishing  himself;  rising  superior  to  his 
insupportable  pains,  making,  by  his  submission,  a  constant  sacri- 
fice. God,  whom  he  invoked  by  faith,  gave  him  a  relish  for  the 
Scriptures ;  and  in  that  Divine  Book,  he  found  the  substantial  nur- 
ture of  piety.  His  counsels  were  more  and  more  regulated  by  just- 
ice ;  he  solaced  the  widow  and  orphan,  the  poor  approached  him 
with  confidence.  A  serious  as  well  as  an  affectionate  father,  in  the 
pleasant  intercourse  which  he  enjoyed  with  his  children,  he  never 
ceased  to  inspire  them  with  sentiments  of  true  virtue ;  and  that 
young  prince,  his  grandcliild,  will  forever  feel  himself  indebted  to 
his  training.  His  entire  household  profited  by  his  example.  *  * 
These,  messieurs,  these  simple  things — governing  his  family,  edify- 
ing his  domestics,  doing  justice  and  mercy,  accomplishing  the  good 
which  God  enjoins,  and  suffering  the  evils  which  He  sends — these 


40  JAMES    BENIGNfi    BOSSUET. 

are  the  common  practices  of  tlie  Christian  life  which  Jesus  Christ 
•will  applaud  before  His  Father  and  the  holy  angels.  But  histories 
will  be  destroyed  with  empires ;  no  more  will  they  speak  of  the 
splendid  deeds  with  which  the}^  are  filled.  While  he  passed  his  life 
in  such  occupations,  and  carried  beyond  that  of  his  most  famous 
actions  the  glory  of  a  retreat  so  good  and  pious,  the  news  of  the 
illness  of  the  Duchess  de  Bourbon  reached  Chantilly,"^'  like  a  clap 
of  thunder.  Who  was  not  afraid  to  see  that  rising  light  extin- 
guished ?  It  was  apprehended  that  her  condition  was  Avorsc  than 
it  proved.  What,  then,  were  the  feelings  of  the  Prince  of  Conde, 
when  he  saw  himself  threatened  with  the  loss  of  that  new  tie  of  his 
family  to  the  person  of  the  king  ?  Was  it  on  such  an  occasion  that 
the  hero  must  die?  Must  he  who  had  passed  through  so  many 
sieges  and  battles  perish,  through  his  tenderness  ?  Overwhelmed  by 
anxieties  produced  by  so  frightful  a  calamity,  his  heart,  which  so 
long  sustained  itself  alone,  yields  to  the  blow ;  his  strength  is  ex- 
hausted. If  he  forgets  all  his  feebleness  at  the  sight  of  the  king 
approaching  the  sick  princess ;  if  transported  by  his  zeal,  he  runs, 
without  assistance,  to  avert  the  perils  which  that  great  king  does 
not  fear,  by  preventing  his  approach,  he  falls  exhausted  before  he 
has  taken  four  steps — a  new  and  affecting  way  of  exposing  his  life 
for  the  king.  Although  the  Duchess  d'Enghien,  a  princess,  whose 
virtue  never  feared  to  perform  her  duty  to  her  family  and  friends, 
had  obtained  leave  to  remain  with  him,  to  solace  him,  she  did  not 
succeed  in  assuaging  his  anxieties ;  and  after  the  young  princess 
was  beyond  danger,  the  malady  of  the  king  caused  new  troubles  to 
the  Prince,  *  ^  *  The  Prince  of  Coudc  grew  weaker,  but  death 
concealed  his  approach.  When  he  seemed  to  be  somewhat  restored, 
and  the  Duke  d'Enghien,  ever  occupied  between  his  duties  as  a  son 
and  his  duties  as  a  subject,  had  returned  by  his  order  to  the  king, 
in  an  instant  all  was  changed,  and  his  approaching  death  was  an- 
nounced to  the  Prince.  Christians,  give  attention,  and  here  learn 
to  die,  or  rather  learn  not  to  wait  for  the  last  hour,  to  begin  to  live 
well.  What !  expect  to  commence  a  new  life  when,  seized  by  the 
freezing  grasp  of  death,  ye  know  not  whether  ye  are  among  the  liv- 
ing or  the  dead  ?  Ah  !  prevent,  by  penitence,  that  hour  of  trouble 
and  darkness !  Thus,  without  being  surprised  at  that  final  sentence 
communicated  to  him,  the  Prince  remains  for  a  moment  in  silence, 
and  then  all  at  once  exclaims :  "  Thou  dost  will  it,  O  my  God ;  Thy 
will  be  done !  Give  me  grace  to  die  well !"  What  more  could  you 
desire  ?     In  that  brief  prayer  you  see  submission  to  the  will  of  God, 

*  The  residence  of  the  Prince  de  Conde 


FUNERAL    ORATION.  41 

reliance  on  His  providence,  trust  in  His  grace,  and  all  devotion. 
From  tliat  time,  such,  as  lie  liad  been  in  all  combats,  serene,  self-pos- 
sessed, and  occupied  without  anxiety,  only  witb.  wbat  was  necessary 
to  sustain  tbem — sucb  also  he  was  in  that  last  conflict.  Death  ap- 
peared to  him  no  more  frightful,  pale  and  languishing,  than  amid 
the  fires  of  battle  and  in  the  prospect  of  victory.  While  sobbings 
were  heard  all  around  him,  he  continued,  as  if  another  than  himself 
were  their  object,  to  give  his  orders ;  and  if  he  forbade  them  weep- 
ing, it  was  not  because  it  was  a  distress  to  him,  but  simply  a  hinder- 
ance.  At  that  time,  he  extended  his  cares  to  the  least  of  his 
domestics.  AVith  a  liberality  worthy  of  his  birth  and  of  thjsir  serv- 
ices, he  loaded  them  with  gifts,  and  honored  them  still  more  with 
mementoes  of  his  regard.     "^     ^     ^     ^ 

The  manner  in  which  he  began  to  acquit  himself  of  his  relig- 
ious duties,  deserves  to  be  recounted  throughout  the  world ;  not  be- 
cause it  was  particularly  remarkable ;  but  rather  because  it  was,  so 
to  speak,  not  such ; — for  it  seemed  singular  that  a  Prince  so  much 
under  the  eye  of  the  world,  should  furnish  so  little  to  spectators. 
Do  not  then,  expect  those  magniloquent  words  which  serve  to  re- 
veal, if  not  a  concealed  pride,  at  least  an  agitated  soul,  which  com- 
bat or  dissembles  its  secret  trouble.  The  Prince  of  Condc  knew 
not  how  to  utter  such  pompous  sentences ;  in  death,  as  in  life,  truth 
ever  formed  his  true  grandeur.  His  confession  was  humble,  full  of 
penitence  and  trust.  He  required  no  long  time  to  prepare  it ;  the 
best  preparation  for  such  a  confession  is  not  to  wait  for  it  as  a  last 
resort.  But  give  attention  to  what  follows.  At  the  sight  of  the 
holy  Viaticum,  which  he  so  much  desired,  see  how  deeply  he  is 
affected.  Then  he  remembers  the  irreverence  with  which,  alas  !  he 
had  sometimes  dishonored  that  divine  mystery.  ■-•'•■  *  *  Calling 
to  mind  all  the  sins  which  he  had  committed,  but  too  feeble  to  give 
utterance  to  his  intense  feelings,  he  borrowed  the  voice  of  his  con- 
fessor to  ask  pardon  of  the  world,  of  his  domestics,  and  of  his  friends. 
They  replied  with  their  tears.  Ah !  reply  ye  now,  profiting  by  that 
example !  The  other  duties  of  religion  were  performed  with  -the 
same  devotion  and  self-possession.  With  what  faith  and  frequency 
did  he,  kissing  the  cross,  pray  the  Saviour  of  the  world  that  His 
blood,  shed  for  him,  might  not  prove  in  vain.  This  it  is  which 
justifies  the  sinner,  which  sustains  the  righteous,  which  reassures 
the  Christian  I  *  *  *  Three  times  did  he  cause  the  prayers  for 
those  in  anguish  to  be  repeated,  and  ever  with  renewed  consolation. 
In  thanking  his  physicians,  "See,"  said  he,  "my  true  physicians," 
pointing  to  the  ecclesiastics  to  whose  teachings  he  had  listened,  and 


42  JAMES    BENIGNlfi    BOSSUET. 

iu  whose  prayers  he  joined.  The  Psalms  were  always  upon  his  lips, 
and  formed  the  joy  of  his  heart.  If  he  complained,  it  was  only 
that  he  suffered  so  little  in.  reparation  for  his  sins.  Sensible  to  the 
last  of  the  tenderness  of  his  friends,  he  never  permitted  himself  to 
be  overcome  by  it ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  afraid  of  yielding  too 
much  to  nature.  What  shall  I  say  of  his  last  interview  with  the 
Duke  d'Enghien  ?  What  colors  are  vivid  enough  to  represent  to 
you  the  constancy  of  the  father,  the  extreme  grief  of  the  son? 
Bathed  in  tears,  his  voice  choked  with  sobs,  he  clasps  his  dying 
father,  then  falls  back,  then  again  rashes  into  his  arms,  as  if  by  such 
means  he  would  retain  that  dear  object  of  his  affection  ;  his  strength 
gives  way,  and  he  falls  at  his  feet.  The  Prince,  without  being 
moved,  waits  for  his  recovery ;  then  calling  the  Duchess,  his  daugh- 
ter-in-law, whom  he  also  sees  speechless,  and  almost  without  life, 
with  a  tenderness  in  which  nothing  of  weakness  is  visible,  he  gives 
them  his  last  commands,  all  of  which  are  instinct  wdth  piety.  He 
closes  with  those  prayers  which  God  ever  hears,  like  Jacob,  invok- 
ing a  blessing  u]3on  them,  and  upon  each  of  their  children  in  par- 
ticular. Nor  shall  I  forget  thee,  0  Prince,  his  dear  nephew,  nor  the 
glorious  testimony  which  he  constantly  tendered  to  your  merit,  nor 
his  tender  zeal  on  your  behalf,  nor  the  letter  which  he  wrote,  when 
dying,  to  reinstate  you  in  the  favor  of  the  king — the  dearest  object 
of  your  wishes — nor  the  noble  qualities  which  made  you  worthy  to 
occupy,  with  so  much  interest,  the  last  hours  of  so  good  a  life.  Nor 
shall  I  forget  the  goodness  of  the  king,  which  anticipated  the  de- 
sires of  the  dying  Prince ;  nor  the  generous  cares  of  the  Duke 
d'Enghien,  who  promoted  that  favor,  nor  the  satisfaction  which  he 
felt  in  fulfilling  the  wishes  of  his  dying  father.  While  his  heart  is 
expanded,  and  his  voice  animated  in  praising  the  king,  the  Prince 
de  Conti!  arrives,  penetrated  with  gratitude  and  grief.  His  sympa- 
thies are  renewed  afresh ;  and  the  two  Princes  hear  what  they  will 
never  permit  to  escape  from  their  heart.  The  Prince  concludes,  by 
assuring  them  that  they  could  never  be  great  men,  nor  great  princes, 
nor  honorable  persons,  except  so  far  as  they  possessed  real  goodness, 
and  were  faithful  to  God  and  the  king.  These  were  the  last  words 
which  he  left  engraven  on  their  memory — this  was  the  last  token  of 
his  affection — the  epitome  of  their  duties. 

All  were  iu  tears,  and  weeping  aloud.  The  Prince  alone  was 
immoved ;  trouble  came  not  into  that  asylum  where  he  had  cast 
himself  0  God,  Thou  wert  his  strength  and  his  refuge,  and  as 
David  says,  the  immovable  rock  upon  which  he  placed  his  confi- 
dence. *  *  *  *  'J^  Tranquil  in  the  arms  of  his  God,  he  waited 
for  his  salvation,  and  implored  His  support,  until  he  finally  ceased 


FUNERAL    ORATION.  43 

to  breathe.  And  here  our  lamentations  ought  to  break  forth  at  the 
loss  of  so  great  a  man.  But  for  the  love  of  the  truth,  and  the  shame 
of  those  who  desj^ise  it,  listen  once  more  to  that  noble  testimony 
which  he  bore  to  it  in  dying.  Informed  by  his  confessor  that  if  our 
heart  is  not  entirely  right  with  God,  we  must,  in  our  addresses,  ask 
God  Himself  to  make  it  such  as  He  pleases,  and  address  Him  in  the 
affecting  language  of  David,  "  0  God,  create  in  me  a  clean  heart." 
Arrested  by  these  words,  the  Prince  pauses,  as  if  occupied  with  some 
great  thought ;  then  calling  the  ecclesiastic  who  had  suggested  the 
idea,  he  says:  "I  have  never  doubted  the  mysteries  of  religion,  as 
some  have  reported."  Christians,  you  ought  to  believe  him;  for  in 
the  state  he  then  was,  he  owed  to  the  world  nothing  but  truth. 
"  But,"  added  he,  "I  doubt  them  less  than  ever.  May  these  truths," 
he  continued,  "reveal  and  develop  themselves  more  and  more  clearly 
in  my  mind.  Yes !"  says  he,  "  we  shall  see  God  as  He  is,  face  to 
face !"'  With  a  wonderful  relish  he  repeated  in  Latin  those  lofty 
words — "  As  He  is — face  to  face !"  Nor  could  those  around  him 
grow  weary  of  seeing  him  in  so  sweet  a  transport.  "What  was  then 
taking  place  in  that  soul  ?  What  new  light  dawned  upon  him  ? 
What  sudden  ray  pierced  the  cloud,  and  instantly  dissipated,  not 
only  all  the  darkness  of  sense,  but  the  very  shadows,  and  if  I  dare 
to  say  it,  the  sacred  obscurities  of  faith  ?  What  then  became  of 
those  splendid  titles  by  which  our  pride  is  flattered.  On  the  very 
verge  of  glory,  and  in  the  dawning  of  a  light  so  beautiful,  how 
rapidly  vanish  the  phantoms  of  the  world !  How  dim  appears  the 
splendor  of  the  most  glorious  victory !  How  profoundly  we  despise 
the  glory  of  the  world,  and  how  deeply  regret  that  our  eyes  were 
ever  dazzled  by  its  radiance.  Come,  ye  peo|)le,  come  now — or  rather 
ye  Princes  and  Lords,  ye  judges  of  the  earth,  and  ye  who  open  to 
man  the  portals  of  heaven ;  and  more  than  all  others,  ye  Princes  and 
Princesses,  nobles  descended  from  a  long  line  of  kings,  lights  of 
France,  but  to-day  in  gloom,  and  covered  with  your  grief,  as  with  a 
cloud,  come  and  see  how  little  remains  of  a  birth  so  august,  a  grand- 
eur so  high,  a  glory  so  dazzling.  Look  around  on  all  sides,  and 
see  all  that  magnificence  and  devotion  can  do  to  honor  so  great  a 
hero  ;  titles  and  inscriptions,  vain  signs  of  that  which  is  no  more — 
shadows  which  weep  around  a  tomb,  fragile  images  of  a  grief  which 
time  sweej^s  away  with  every  thing  else;  columns  which  appear  as 
if  they  would  bear  to  heaven  the  magnificent  evidence  of  our  empti- 
ness ;  nothing,  indeed,  is  wanting  in  all  these  honors  but  he  to  whom 
they  are  rendered !  Weep  then  over  these  feeble  remains  of  human 
life ;  weep  over  that  mournful  immortality  we  give  to  heroes.  But 
draw  near  especially  ye  who  run,  with  such   ardor,  the   career  of 


44  JAMES    BBNIGNi;    BOSSUET. 

glory,  intrepid  and  warrior  spirits !  AVho  was  more  worthy  to  com- 
mand you,  and  in  whom  did  ye  find  command  more  honorable  ? 
Mourn  then  that  great  Captain,  and  weeping,  say :  "  Here  is  the 
man  that  led  us  through  all  hazards,  under  whom  were  formed  so 
many  renowned  captains,  raised  by  his  example,  to  the  highest  hon- 
ors of  war ;  his  shadow  might  yet  gain  battles,  and  lo  !  in  his  silence, 
his  very  name  animates  us,  and  at  the  same  time  warns  us,  that  to 
find,  at  death,  some  rest  from  our  toils,  and  not  arrive  unprepared  at 
our  eternal  dwelling,  we  must,  with  an  earthly  king,  yet  serve  the 
King  of  Heaven."  Serve  then  that  immortal  and  ever  n;erciful 
King,  who  will  value  a  sigh  or  a  cup  of  cold  water,  given  in  His 
name,  more  than  all  others  will  value  the  shedding  of  your  blood. 
And  begin  to  reckon  the  time  of  j-our  useful  services  from  the  day 
on  which  you  gave  yourselves  to  so  beneficent  a  Master.  "Will  not 
ye  too  come,  ye  whom  he  honored  by  making  you  his  friends  ?  To 
whatever  extent  you  enjoyed  his  confidence,  come  all  of  you,  and 
surround  this  tomb.  Mingle  your  prayers  with  your  tears ;  and 
while  admiring,  in  so  great  a  prince,  a  friendship  so  excellent,  an  in- 
tercourse so  sweet,  preserve  the  remembrance  of  a  hero  whose  good- 
ness equaled  his  corn-age.  Thus  may  he  ever  prove  your  cherished 
instructor;  thus  may  you  profit  by  his  virtues  ;  and  may  his  death, 
which  you  deplore,  serve  you  at  once  for  consolation  and  example. 
For  myself,  if  permitted,  after  all  others,  to  render  the  last  of&ces 
at  this  tomb,  O  prince,  the  worthy  subject  of  our  praises  and  re- 
grets, thou  wilt  live  forever  in  my  memory.  There  will  thy  image 
be  traced,  but  not  with  that  bold  aspect  which  promises  victory.  No, 
I  would  see  in  you  nothing  which  death  can  efface.  You  will  have 
in  that  image  only  immortal  traits.  I  shall  behold  you  such  as  you 
were  in  your  last  hours  under  the  hand  of  God,  when  His  glory  be- 
gan to  dawn  njoon  j^ou.  There  shall  I  see  yon  more  triumphant 
than  at  Fribourg  and  at  Rocroy ;  and  ravished  by  so  glorious  a  tri- 
umph, I  shall  give  thanks  in  the  beautiful  words  of  the  well -beloved 
disciple,  "  This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  even  our 
faith."  Enjoy,  0  prince,  this  victory,  enjoy  it  forever,  through  the 
everlasting  efficacy  of  that  sacrifice.*  Accept  these  last  efforts  of  a 
voice  once  familiar  to  you.  A¥ith  you  these  discourses  shall  end. 
Instead  of  deploring  the  death  of  others,  great  prince,  I  would  hence- 
forth learn  from  you  to  render  my  own  holy  ;  happy,  if  reminded 
by  these  white  locks  of  the  account  which  I  must  give  of  my  minis- 
try ;  I  reserve  for  the  flock,  which  I  have  to  feed  with  the  word  of 
life,  the  remnants  of  a  voice  Avhich  falters,  and  an  ardor  which  is 
fading  away. 

*  The  sacrifice  of  the  mass,  which  concluded  the  funeral  ceremony. 


DISCOURSE   FORTY-SEVENTH. 

LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

The  "Reformer  of  the  French  Pulpit,"  as  Bourdaloue  has  been 
justly  called,  was  born  at  Bourges,  in  the  year  1632,  and  at  the  age  of  fif- 
teen years  entered  the  Community  of  the  Jesuits,  of  whose  disposition, 
however,  he  did  not  seem  to  partake.  Eighteen  years  were  then  passed 
in  study,  and  in  teaching  Philosophy  and  Theology,  after  which  he  gave 
himself  Avholly  to  j^reaching.  Plis  bold  and  origmal  style  of  eloquence 
excited  universal  surprise  and  admiration ;  and  he  was  early  called  to 
Paris,  where,  for  ujDward  of  thirty  years,  his  popularity  was  undimin- 
ished. He  departed  this  life,  May  13th,  1704,  having  continued  his 
labors  until  within  two  days  of  his  death. 

Bourdaloue  seems  to  have  been  superior  to  his  creed,  though  he 
lived  and  died  in  the  Catholic  Faith.  His  piety  is  not  called  in  question  ; 
and  it  has  been  said  of  him,  "  If  he  won  the  applause  of  the  great,  he 
hung  it  as  a  garland  upon  the  cross  of  Christ."  Most  of  lus  sermons 
exhibit  him  in  the  light  of  a  spiritual,  warm,  and  edifying  preacher. 
As  already  intimated,  Bourdaloue  did  much  to  improve  the  current 
style  of  preaching,  elevating  it  from  the  low  harangue,  and  puerile  dol- 
ing out  of  monkish  legends,  to  the  position  of  dignity  and  manhness 
which  becomes  the  minister  of  Jesus  Christ.  His  senftons  are  far  more 
argumentative  than  those  of  the  other  great  orators  of  his  time.  Bos- 
suet  addressed  the  imagination  ;  and  Massillon,  the  heart ;  but  Bourda- 
loue spoke  to  the  understanding.  The  discourses  of  the  latter,  there- 
fore, are  more  frigid,  and  excel  in  the  power  to  convince  by  logical 
argumentation.  But  though  wonderfully  condensed,  and  exact,  his 
subtlest  arguments  are  clothed  in  diction  so  beautiful,  as  to  captivate 
even  the  unthinking  and  unwUling.  It  was  his  remarkable  custom  to 
pronounce  his  discourses  with  his  eyes  partially,  if  not  wholly  closed ; 
and  yet  such  was  the  energy  of  his  mind,  and  such  the  pathos  of  his 
eloquence,  that  he  roused  the  affections  of  liis  hearers,  and  penetrated 
and  melted  their  hearts.  The  sermons  of  Bourdaloue  which  possess  the 
greatest  degree  of  excellence,  are  those  upon  the  Passion  of  the  Sa- 
viour, of  which  tfiere  are  several.  The  best  of  these,  by  common  con- 
sent, is  the  one  here  given.  As  will  be  seen  by  the  "/S'^>e,"  with  which 
it  opens,  it  was  preached  before  the  king. 


46  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 


THE  PASSION  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

"And  there  followed  Him  a  great  company  of  people,  and  of  women,  which  also 
bewailed  and  lamented  Him.  But  Jesus  turning  unto  them,  said,  '  Daughters  of  Jeru- 
salem, weep  not  for  Me,  but  weep  for  yourselves,  and  for  your  children.'  " — Luke,  xxiii. 
27,  28. 

Sire — is  it  then  true  tbat  the  passion  of  Jesus  Christ, — of  which 
we  celebrate  to-day  the  august  but  sorrowful  mystery,  some  idea  of 
which  faith  gives  us, — is  not  the  most  touching  object  which  can 
occupy  our  minds  and  excite  our  grief?  Is  it  true  that  our  tears 
can  be  more  holily  and  more  suitably  employed  than  in  weeping 
over  the  death  of  the  God-man ;  and  that  another  duty  more  press- 
ing and  more  necessary  suspends,  so  to  speak,  the  obligation  which 
so  just  a  gratitude  imposes  upon  us  in  another  place,  to  sympathize 
by  sentiments  of  tenderness  in  the  sufferings  of  our  Divine  Re- 
deemer ?  Never  could  we  have  supposed  it.  Christians ;  and  yet  it 
is  Jesus  Christ  who  speaks  to  us  ;  and  who,  as  the  last  proof  of  His 
love,  the  most  generous  and  the  most  disinterested  that  ever  existed, 
in  His  way  to  Calvary,  where  He  must  die  for  us,  warns  us  not  to 
weep  at  His  death,  and  to  weep  over  every  other  thing  rather  than 
His  death.  "  Weep  not  for  Me,  but  weep  for  yourselves."  St.  Am- 
brose, delivering  the  funeral  oration  of  the  Emperor  Valentine  the 
younger,  in  the  presence  of  all  the  people  of  Milan,  thought  that  he 
had  sufficiently  executed  his  ministry,  and  had  fully  answered  the 
expectations  of  his  auditors,  when  he  exhorted  them  to  confess  by 
the  tribute  of  their  tears,  how  much  they  were  indebted  to  the  mem- 
ory of  that  incomparable  Prince,  who  had  exposed  his  life,  and  had, 
as  it  were,  immolated  himself  for  them.  But  I,  engaged  to  address 
you  in  this  discourse  on  the  bloody  death  of  the  Saviour  of  men,  1 
behold  myself  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  emj^loying  a  language 
widely  different ;  since,  instead  of  borrowing  the  words  of  St.  Am- 
brose, which  seemed  naturally  to  agree  with  my  subject,  I  must,  on 
the  contrary,  say  to  you — Give  not  to  this  dying  Redeemer  tears 
which  He  demands  not  from  you :  the  tears  which  you  shed  are 
precious  tears ;  do  not  waste  them ;  they  are  required  for  a  subject 
more  important  than  you  imagine.  Jesus  Christ  not  only  refuses  to 
accept  of  3'our  tears  for  His  death,  but  He  even  expressly  forbids 
them ;  because  to  weep  for  it  might  prevent  you  from  weeping  for 
another  evil,  which  much  more  nearly  affects  you,  and  which  indeed 
is  more  deplorable  than  even  the  death  of  the  Son  of  God.  I  know 
that  all  creatures  are  or  seem  sensible  of  it ;  that  the  sun  is  eclipsed, 


THE    PASSION    OF    JESUS    CHRIST.  47 

that  the  earth  trembles,  that  the  vail  of  the  temple  is  rent,  that  the 
rocks  are  torn  asunder,  that  the  tombs  are  opened,  that  the  ashes  of 
the  dead  revive,  that  all  nature  is  moved  at  it :  man  only  is  for  once 
freed  from  this  duty ;  provided  he  acquits  himself  in  a  manner  less 
tender  in  appearance,  but  more  solid  in  reality.  Let  us  then  leave 
to  the  heavenly  bodies  and  to  the  elements,  or,  if  you  will  associate 
with  them,  intelligent  creatures,  let  us  leave  to  the  blessed  angels 
the  care  of  honoring  the  funeral  of  Jesus  Christ  by  the  marks  of 
their  sorrow;  "these  embassadors  of  peace,"  says  Isaiah,  "have  wept 
bitterly."  But  as  for  us,  upon  whom  God  has  other  designs,  instead 
of  weeping  for  Jesus  Christ,  let  us  weep  with  Jesus  Christ,  let  us 
weep  like  Jesus  Christ,  let  us  weep  for  that  which  made  Jesus  Christ 
weep :  thus  we  shall  consecrate  our  tears,  and  render  them  beneficial. 
An  evil  greater  in  the  idea  of  God  than  even  the  death  of  Christ ; 
an  evil  more  worthy  of  being  deplored  than  all  that  the  only  Son 
of  God  has  suffered ;  an  evil  t6  which  our  tears  are  more  legiti- 
mately due  than  to  the  Passion  of  the  God-man ;  you  are  too  much 
enlightened.  Christians,  not  to  comprehend  at  one  glance,  is  sin. 
There  has  never  been  among  all  created  beings  any  thing  but  sin 
which  could  predominate  over  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
justify  the  words  of  this  Saviour  God,  when  He  commands  us  with 
as  much  propriety  as  affection,  "  Weep  not  for  Me,  but  for  your- 
selves." To  obey.  Christians,  this  commandment,  which  our  divine 
Master  gives  us,  and  to  profit  by  such  important  advice,  let  us  con- 
sider to-day  the  mystery  of  the  holy  passion,  only  that  we  may 
weep  over  the  devastation  of  our  sins ;  and  let  us  not  weep  over 
the  devastation  of  our  sins  but  in  sight  of  the  mystery  of  the 
holy  passion.  Indeed,  if  Jesus  Christ  had  suffered  independently 
of  our  sin,  His  passion,  however  severe  it  might  be  for  Him,  would 
have  nothing  in  it  so  frightful  to  us ;  and  if  our  sin  had  no  connec- 
tion with  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  exceedingly  sinful  as  it  is,  it  would 
be  less  odious  to  us.  It  is  then  by  sin  that  we  must  measure  the 
inestimable  benefit  of  the  Passion  of  the  Son  of  God ;  and  it  is  by 
the  inestimable  benefit  of  the  Passion  of  the  Son  of  God  that  we 
must  measure  the  enormity  of  sin  :  of  sin,  I  say — observe  well  these 
three  propositions  which  I  advance,  and  which  will  divide  this  dis- 
course— of  sin,  which  was  the  essential  cause  of  the  Passion  of  Jesus 
Christ ;  of  sin,  which  is  a  continual  renewal  of  the  Passion  of  Jesus 
Christ ;  in  a  word,  of  sin,  which  is  the  annihilation  of  all  the  fruits 
of  the  Passion  of  Jesus  Christ.  In  three  sentences,  the  Passion  of 
Jesus  Christ  caused  by  sin ;  the  Passion  of  Jesus  Christ  renewed  by 
sin;  the  Passion  of  Jesus  Christ  rendered  useless  and  even  preju- 


48  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

dicial  by  sin.     Beliold  what  it  is  that  claims  our  tears  and  demands 
our  attention. 

FiEST  Part. — Consider  the  passion  of  Jesus  Christ  which  was 
caused  bj  sin.  Behold  the  two  cu-cumstances,  and,  as  it  were,  the 
two  scenes,  in  which  I  am  going  to  introduce  this  Mediator  by  excel- 
lence between  God  and  man.  The  garden  where  He  agonized,  and 
Calvary  where  He  expired.  The  garden  where  He  agonized  ;  it  is 
there  that  I  will  show  Him  to  you  feeling  all  the  bitterness  of  sin. 
Calvary,  where  He  expired ;  it  is  there  that  I  will  cause  you  to  con- 
template His  person  immolated  for  the  satisfaction  of  sin.  Is  any 
thing  more  requisite  to  constrain  you  and  me  to  shed  tears,  not  of  a 
vain  and  sterile  compassion,  but  of  an  ef&cacious  and  holy  com- 
punction ?  "  Weep  not  for  me,  but  for  yourselves."  Apply  your- 
selves, my  dear  hearers,  and  begin  by  the  interior  sorrows  of  Jesus 
Christ,  to  learn  what  should  be  the  subject  of  our  sorrow. 

Scarcely  has  He  entered  into  the  garden  where  He  went  to  pray, 
when  He  falls  into  a  profound  grief.  "  He  began  to  be  sorrovfful." 
The  feeling  is  so  keen  that  He  can  not  conceal  it :  He  declares  it  to 
His  disciples  :  "  My  soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto  death." 
Fear  seizes  Him,  "  He  began  to  be  sore  amazed ;"  troubles  over- 
whelm Him,  "  He  began  to  be  very  heavy :"  by  the  force  of  the  con- 
flict in  Himself  He  already  suffers  a  kind  of  agony  beforehand,  "  He 
was  in  an  agony  ;"  and  by  the  violence  of  this  combat  He  even  sweats 
blood  :  "  And  His  sweat  was  as  it  were  great  drops  of  blood  falling 
down  to  the  ground."  "  What  does  all  this  signify,"  says  St.  Chry- 
sostom,  "  in  Him  who  was  strength  itself,  and  the  apparent  weak- 
nesses of  whom  could  be  nothing  but  so  many  miracles  of  His 
almighty  love  ?  What  does  He  fear  ?  Y/hat  troubles  Him?  Why 
that  depression  in  a  soul  which,  besides  enjoying  the  clearest  vision 
of  God,  was  always  laden  with  the  pure  joys  of  blessedness  ?  Why 
that  internal  war  and  that  commotion  of  the  passions  in  a  mind  in- 
capable of  being  moved  by  any  other  springs  than  those  of  sovereign 
reason?"  Ah!  Christians,  behold  what  we  have  well  weighed  in 
our  minds,  and  what  we  can  not  too  well  understand  for  our  edifica- 
tion. For  to  say  that  the  Saviour  of  the  world  is  in  an  agony  only 
because  He  is  about  to  die  ;  that  the  sole  ignominy  of  the  cross,  or  the 
rigor  of  the  punishment  prepared  for  Him,  caused  Him  these  agita- 
tions, these  disgusts,  these  mortal  fears,  would  not  be  to  have  a  suffi- 
ciently high  idea  of  the  passions  of  His  nature.  '•  No,  no,  my  breth- 
ren," resumes  St.  Chrysostom,  "these  are  not  the  things  about  which 
His  great  soul  was  troubled."     The  cross  which  Jesus  Christ  had 


THE    PASSION    OP    JESUS    CHRIST.  49 

chosen  as  the  instrument  of  our  redemption  did  not  appear  to  Him 
so  terrible  an  object ;  that  cross,  which  must  be  the  foundation  of 
His  glory,  became  not  to  Him  an  object  of  shame ;  the  cup  which 
His  Father  had  given  Him,  and  which  even  on  this  account  was  so 
precious  to  Him,  was  not  that  bitter  cup  of  which  He  testified  so 
much  horror,  and  which  produced  a  sweat  of  blood  from  all  the 
pores  of  His  body ;  these  were  not  precisely  the  symptoms  of  the 
mysterious  baptism  of  His  death.  For,  however  bloody  this  bap- 
tism might  be.  He  Himself  had  ardently  desired  it,  He  had  sought  it 
with  holy  eagerness  ;  He  had  said  to  His  disciples,  "1  have  a  bap- 
tism to  be  baptized  with,  and  how  am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accom- 
plished ?"  It  was  then  some  other  thing  than  the  presence  of  death 
which  troubled  Him,  which  affrighted  Him.  And  what  ?  1  have  al- 
read}^  told  you,  my  dear  hearers  ;  but.  Lord,  to  impress  it  deeply  on 
the  minds  and  hearts  of  those  who  hear  me,  I  want  all  the  zeal  with 
which  Thou  wast  consumed.  What  do  I  say?  Sin  is  the  only 
thing  opposed  to  God ;  the  only  evil  capable  of  afflicting  the  God- 
man,  and  making  this  God  of  glory  sorrow  itself  Rise,  then.  Chris- 
tians, above  all  human  ideas,  and  conceive  yet  once  this  grand  truth  ! 
Behold  the  faithful  exposition  of  it  drawn  from  the  fathers  of  the 
Church,  but  above  all  from  St.  Augustin. 

For  while  the  chief  priests  and  Pharisees  took  counsel  together 
against  Jesus  Christ,  at  the  palace  of  Caiaphas,  and  while  they  pre- 
pared themselves  to  oppress  Him  by  false  accusations  and  supposi- 
titious crimes,  Jesus  Christ  Himself  in  the  garden,  humbled  and  pros- 
trate before  His  Father,  considered  Himself  at  the  same  time,  with- 
out the  loss  of  His  innocence,  laden  with  real  crimes  ;  and  according 
to  the  oracle  of  Isaiah,  which  was  verified  in  the  letter,  "  The  Lord 
laid  upon  Him  the  iniquities  of  us  all."  Then,  in  consequence  of  the 
transfer  which  the  Lord  made  of  our  iniquities  to  His  adorable  Son,, 
that  just  One  who  had  never  known  sin,  found  Himself  covered 
with  the  sins  of  all  nations,  with  the  sins  of  all  ages,  with  the  sins 
of  all  states  and  conditions.  Yes,  all  the  sacrileges  which  should 
ever  be  committed,  and  which  His  infinite  prescience  made  Him  dis- 
tinctly foresee,  all  the  blasphemies  which  should  be  uttered  against 
heaven,  all  the  abominations  which  should  excite  blushes  from  earth, 
all  the  scandals  which  should  break  out  in  the  world,  all  those  mon- 
sters which  hell  should  produce,  and  of  which  men  should  more 
especially  be  the  authors,  came  to  torture  Him  in  a  crowd,  and  to 
serve  already  as  His  executioners.  Where  do  we  learn  this  ?  from 
Himself,  the  alone  witness  and  judge  of  whatever  He  suffers  in  this 
cruel  agitation.     For,  according  to  the  interpretation  of  St.  Augustin, 

4 


50  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

it  is  personally  of  Jesus  Christ  that  these  words  of  the  Psalmist 
must  be  understood  :  "  The  sorrows  of  death  compassed  Me,  and  the 
floods  of  ungodly  men  made  Me  afraid."  It  was,  then,  in  the  antici- 
j)ation  of  this  blessed,  yet  altogether  sorrowful  moment,  that  Jere- 
miah, as  a  prophet,  had  a  right  to  say  to  Jesus  Christ,  "  For  Thy 
breach  is  great  like  the  sea,"  Ah !  Lord,  Thy  sorrow  is  as  a  vast 
sea  of  which  we  can  not  sound  the  bottom,  nor  measure  the  im- 
mensity !  It  was  to  increase  and  swell  this  sea  that  all  the  sins  of 
men,  as  the  Scripture  expresses  it,  rushed  like  so  many  waves  into 
the  soul  of  the  Son  of  God ;  for  it  is  also  of  His  passion,  and  of  the  ex- 
cess of  His  sorrow,  that  we  must  explain  this  passage  :  "  Save  me  O 
God,  for  the  waters  are  come  in  unto  My  soul."  "With  this  difference, 
that  while  the  waves  entering  into  the  sea  are  there  confounded  and 
lost,  so  that  it  is  not  possible  to  distinguish  them  one  from  the  other  ; 
here,  on  the  contrary,  that  is  to  say,  in  this  abyss  of  sins  and  sea  of 
sorrows,  with  which  the  Saviour  of  the  world  was  overwhelmed.  He 
discerned  without  mixture  or  confusion  all  the  various  sins  for  which 
He  was  about  to  suffer :  the  sins  of  kings  and  people  ;  the  sins  of 
the  rich  and  the  poor  ;  the  sins  of  fathers  and  children ;  the  sins  of 
the  priests  and  the  laity.  In  these  torrents  of  iniquity  He  distin- 
guishes slanders  and  calumnies,  obscenities  and  adulteries,  simony  and 
usury,  treasons  and  vengeance.  With  all  the  keenness  of  His  Divine 
penetration.  He  perceives  Himself  called  to  answer  for  the  ravings 
of  the  proud  and  ambitious,  the  excesses  of  the  sensual  and  volup- 
tuous, the  impieties  of  atheists  and  libertines,  the  impostures  and 
malice  of  hypocrites.  Should  we  be  astonished  if  all  this,  according 
to  the  metaphor  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  having  formed  a  deluge  of 
waters  in  His  blessed  soul,  it  should  be  swallowed  up  by  them  ;  and 
if  also,  in  the  grief  of  His  heart,  and  in  the  sorrow  caused  by  His  zeal 
for  God  and  His  love  for  us,  this  deluge  of  waters  should  have  been 
followed  by  a  sweat  of  blood?  "And  his  sweat  was  as  it  were 
great  drops  of  blood." 

Behold,  Christians,  what  I  call  the  Passion  of  Christ,  and  what 
formed  the  first  scene  of  His  suffering !  Is  it  thus  that  we  consider 
sin?  And  does  the  sorrow  that  we  feel  on  account  of  it  j^roduce  in 
Tis  proportionably  like  effects  ?  Let  us  now  enter  into  the  secrets  of 
our  consciences  ;  and,  profiting  by  the  model  which  God  proposes  to 
us,  let  us  see  if  our  dispositions,  in  the  exercise  of  Christian  peni- 
tence, have  at  least  that  just  measure  which  must  give  it  validity. 
Is  it  thus,  I  say,  that  we  consider  sin?  do  we  conceive  the  same 
horror  of  it  ?  do  we  lose  tranquillity  of  soul  in  it  ?  are  we  agitated 
and  grieved  at  it  ?     Is  this  sin,  by  the  idea  which  we  form  of  it,  a 


THE    PASSION    OF    JESUS    CHRIST.  51 

punishment  to  us  as  it  was  to  Jesus  Christ?  Do  we,  like  Jesus 
Christ,  fear  it  more  than  all  the  evils  in  the  world  ?  does  it  bring  us 
by  remorse  for  it  into  a  kind  of  agonj  ?  Ah  !  my  brethren,  cries 
St.  Chrysostom,  touched  with  this  comparison,  behold  the  great  dis- 
order with  which  we  have  to  reproach  ourselves,  and  on  account 
of  which  we  must  eternally  weep  over  ourselves.  A  God-man  is 
troubled  at  the  sight  of  our  sin,  and  we  are  tranquil ;  lie  is  afflicted 
by  it,  and  we  are  unmoved ;  He  is  humbled  for  it,  and  we  are  bold ; 
He  sweats  even  streams  of  blood,  and  we  shed  not  one  tear ;  this  is 
what  should  terrify  us.  We  sin,  and  far  from  being  sorrowful  even 
unto  death,  perhaps  after  the  sin  do  we  not  still  insult  the  justice  and 
providence  of  our  God,  and  do  we  not  say  within  ourselves,  like  the 
ungodly,  "  I  have  sinned  and  what  evil  has  happened  to  me  ?"  Am 
I  less  at  my  ease  on  account  of  it  ?  Am  I  of  less  consideration  in 
the  world?  Does  it  diminish  my  credit  and  authority?  Hence 
that  false  peace  so  directly  opposed  to  the  agony  of  the  Son  of  God  ; 
that  peace  which  we  enjoy  in  the  most  frightful  condition,  which  is 
a  state  of  sin.  Although  the  enemies  of  God,  we  do  not  allow  our- 
selves merely  to  appear  satisfied.  Not  only  do  we  affect  to  be  so, 
but  we  are  capable  of  being  so  in  reality,  even  so  as  to  be  able  to 
dissipate  ourselves  and  run  into  the  frivolous  joys  of  the  age. 
Eeprobate  peace,  which  can  only  proceed  from  the  hardness  of  our 
hearts.  Peace  a  thousand  times  more  sad  than  all  the  other  punish.- 
ments  of  sin,  and  in  some  respects  worse  than  sin  itself!  Hence  that 
vain  confidence  so  contrary  to  the  holy  fear  of  Jesus  Christ ;  that 
presumptuous  confidence  which  encourages  us  where  this  God-man 
has  trembled ;  which  inspires  us  with  hope  where  He  believed  that 
we  ought  to  fear ;  which  flatters  us  with  a  hope  of  mercy,  and  whicli 
promises  to  us  the  exercise  of  a  Divine  patience,  upon  which  He 
never  reckoned.  A  mercy  badly  understood,  a  patience  weak  and 
chimerical,  whicli  would  but  serve,  and  which,  in  fact,  by  the  abuse 
which  we  make  of  it,  does  but  serve  to  cherish  our  sin.  Hence 
that  hardness  of  heart,  and  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  use  the  term,  that 
effrontery  whicli  blushes  at  nothing,  and  which  appears  so  monstrous 
when  compared  with  the  confusion  of  Jesus  Christ.  While  we  sin 
against  God,  we  are  not  less  lofty  before  men  ;  we  support  sin  with 
assurance,  and  far  from  being  confounded  at  it,  we  glory  in  it,  we 
applaud  ourselves  for  it,  we  are  puffed  up  by  it,  we  triumph  on  ac- 
count of  it.  This  is  what  obliges  the  Divine  Word  to  humble  Him- 
self.  The  scandalous  insolence  of  certain  sinners  could  not  be  re- 
paired by  any  other  humiliation  than  that  of  Jesus  Christ ;  the  blind 
rashness  of  so  many  libertines  could  not  be  expiated  by  any  other 


52  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

fears  tlian  those  of  Jesus  Christ ;  the  indifference  of  so  many  insens- 
ible souls  required  no  less  remedy  than  the  sensibility  of  Jesus 
Christ.  That  God  might  be  duly  satisfied,  that  sin  might  at  once  be 
as  detested  as  it  was  detestable,  it  was  needful  that  a  sorrow  for  it 
should  at  once  be  conceived  proportionate  to  its  malice.  Only  the 
God-man  was  capable  of  this,  because  He  only  could  know  the 
wickedness  of  sin  perfectly  and  in  all  its  extent,  and  consequently 
He  only  was  able  to  hate  sin.  For  this  purpose  He  is  come,  and  in 
the  days  of  His  mortal  life,  as  says  St.  Paul,  "Having  offered  up 
prayers  and  supplications,  with  strong  crying  and  tears  unto  Him 
that  was  able  to  save  him  from  death,  He  has  given  us  the  most  ex- 
cellent idea  of  Christian  sorrow."  If,  then,  Ave  still  bring  to  His 
sacrament  lukewarm  hearts,  cold  hearts,  barren  and  hard  hearts, 
doubt  not,  my  brethren,  concludes  St.  Bernard,  that  it  is  to  us  that 
the  Saviour  to-day  addresses  these  words,  "  "Weep  not  for  Me,  but 
for  yourselves." 

Indeed,  do  you  know  what  will  condemn  us  most  in  the  judgment 
of  God  ?  Our  sins  will  not  even  be  so  criminal  as  our  pretended  con- 
tritions; those  languishing  contritions,  so  little  conformed  to  the 
fervor  of  Jesus  Christ ;  those  superficial  contritions  with  which  we 
know  so  well  how  to  preserve  all  the  ease  of  our  minds,  all  the 
cheerfulness  of  our  hearts,  all  the  relish  for  pleasures,  all  the  de- 
lights and  allurements  of  society ;  those  imaginary  contritions  which 
never  afflict  us,  and  which,  by  an  infallible  consequence,  produce  no 
change.  If  we  are  influenced  by  the  spirit  of  faith,  one  sin  is  enough 
to  disconcert  all  the  powers  of  our  souls ;  to  throw  us  into  the  same 
consternation  as  Cain,  to  produce  cries  strong  as  those  of  Esau,  when 
he  saw  himself  excluded  from  his  birthright  and  deprived  of  his 
father's  blessing  ;  to  make  us  groan  as  that  king  of  Babylon  when 
he  perceived  the  hand  that  wrote  his  sentence ;  we  will  say  more, 
even,  in  a  word,  to  make  us  feel  at  the  bottom  of  our  hearts,  agree- 
ably to  the  language  of  the  apostle,  what  Jesus  Christ  felt  in  Him- 
self: "Let  this  mind  be  in  you  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus." 
But  because  the  habit  of  sin  has  by  degrees  hardened  our  hearts, 
that  which  terrified  Jesus  Christ  alarms  us  no  more  ;  that  which  ex- 
cited all  his  passions  to  aches  us  no  more.  0  Lord,  said  David,  and 
we  ought  to  say  with  him,  heal  my  soul.  But  entirely  to  heal 
my  soul,  heal  it  from  its  feeble  and  imperfect  contritions,  which 
render  its  wounds  yet  more  incurable  instead  of  closing  them.  Heal 
it  because  at  least  it  is  in  commotion ;  heal  the  breaches  thereof, 
for  it  shaketh.  But  it  is  not  enough  that  it  is  shaken,  it  must  be 
converted  by  the  invincible  force  of  the  example  of  Jesus  Christ. 


THE    PASSION    OP    JESUS    CHRIST.  53 

Having  this  model  before  our  eyes,  tlie  penitence  wbicTi  we  Lave  so 
often  abused  -will  become  salutary  to  us  ;  it  will  be  no  more  what  it 
has  been  for  us  so  many  times,  a  pure  ceremony ;  it  will  be  a  genuine 
return,  a  real  change,  a  true  conversion.  We  have  said,  and  it  is 
true,  that  sorrow  of  sin,  to  be  acceptable,  must  have  qualities  as  rare 
as  they  are  requisite  ;  that  it  must  be  supernatural,  absolute,  sincere, 
efficacious,  universal ;  that  God  must  be  the  principal  object  of  it, 
and  the  end ;  that  it  must  exceed  all  other  sorrow,  and  that  sin  being 
the  sovereign  evil,  we  ought  to  abhor  it  above  every  other  evil ;  that 
there  is  no  possible  sin  but  it  must  exclude,  no  temptation  but  it 
must  have  the  power  to  overcome,  no  occasion  but  it  must  induce 
us  to  avoid  ;  and  that  if  we  fail  in  one  of  these  qualities,  it  is  only 
a  vain  and  apparent  contrition.  But  I  tell  you  to-day,  that  all  these 
qualities  together  are  comprised  in  the  sorrow  of  Jesus  Christ :  I  tell 
you  that  to  confirm  yourselves  in  a  solid  contrition,  in  a  perfect  con- 
trition, you  have  only  to  form  yourselves  after  the  model  of  Jesus 
Christ,  by  applying  to  yourselves  w^hat  God  said  to  Moses,  "  See 
that  thou  do  according  to  the  pattern."  If  this  is  not  our  rule,  let 
us  weep  on  this  account,  my  dear  hearers ;  and  let  us  weep  the  more 
bitterly,  that  we  can  not  apply  it  to  ourselves.  Insensible  to  our  sins, 
let  us  at  least  weep  over  our  insensibility  ;  let  us  weep  because  we 
do  not  weep,  and  let  us  afflict  ourselves  because  we  are  not  afflicted. 
Thus  shall  we  arrive  at  true  contrition,  and  thus  we  shall  begin  to 
imitate  the  suffering  of  the  Saviour. 

But  besides  this  inferior  passion,  if  I  may  so  speak,  which  sin  at 
first  caused  Him,  behold  another  with  which  the  senses  are  more 
struck,  and  of  which  sin  was  not  less  the  unhappy  and  principal 
cause.  For,  from  the  garden  where  Jesus  Christ  prayed,  without 
stopping  at  present  to  contemplate  the  rest,  I  am  going  to  Calvary 
where  he  expired ;  and  contemplate  in  spirit  this  author  and  finisher 
of  our  faith,  according  to  the  expression  of  the  great  Apostle,  who, 
instead  of  a  life  tranquil  and  happy,  of  which  he  was  capable,  dies 
the  most  cruel  and  the  most  ignominious  death.  Surprised  at  so 
singular  an  event,  I  dare  venture  to  inquire  of  God  the  reason ;  I 
appeal  to  His  wisdom.  His  justice,  and  His  goodness ;  and.  Christian 
as  I  am,  I  am  almost  ready,  after  the  example  of  the  infidel  Jew,  to 
make  a  stumbling-block  of  this  mystery  of  my  redemption  !  And 
what  indeed  is  it  that  I  see ;  the  most  innocent  of  men  treated  as  the 
most  criminal,  and  delivered  to  merciless  executioners  ?  But  God, 
jealous  of  the  glory  of  His  attributes,  and  interested  in  destroying 
a  scandal  so  plausible  in  appearance,  but  at  bottom  so  injurious  as 
this,  knows  well  how  to  repress  this  first  movement  of  my  zeal.    And 


54  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

how  ?  By  making  me  know  tliat  this  deatli  is  the  punishment  of  my 
sins :  by  making  me  confess  that  all  that  is  transacted  at  Calvary, 
whatever  horror  I  may  conceive  of  it,  is  justly  ordained,  wisely 
managed,  and  holily  and  divinely  executed.  Why  ?  Because  by 
nothing  less  could  sin  be  punished,  and  because  it  is  true,  as  St. 
Jerome  has  remarked,  that  if  in  the  treasures  of  the  wrath  of  Grod 
there  were  no  other  chastisements  for  sin  than  those  which  our  reason 
could  approve,  our  reason  being  bounded,  and  sin,  in  its  nature,  par- 
taking of  something  infinite,  God  w^ould  never  have  been  fully  satisfied. 
Our  error.  Christians  (apply  yourselves,  if  you  please,  to  these 
two  thoughts  well  worthy  of  your  reflections),  our  error  is  in  now 
considering  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  by  what  He  is  in  Himself,  and 
not  by  what  He  became  for  us :  that  which  deceives  us  in  regarding 
His  passion  with  respect  to  the  Jews,  who  were  only  the  instruments 
of  it,  and  never  with  respect  to  God,  who  has  been  the  principal 
agent,  and  the  sovereign  arbiter  of  it.  I  will  explain  myself.  Jesus 
Christ  in  Himself  is  the  Holy  of  Holies,  the  well-beloved  of  the 
Father,  the  object  of  God's  delights,  the  head  of  the  elect,  the  source 
of  all  blessings,  substantial  and  incarnate  holiness.  This  is  the  cause 
on  account  of  which  our  reason  revolts  in  seeing  Him  suffer.  But 
we  do  not  observe  that  at  Calvary  He  ceases,  so  to  sj)eak,  to  be  all 
this :  and  instead  of  those  qualities  which  were  for  a  time  obscured 
and  eclipsed.  He  was  reduced  to  be,  according  to  Scripture,  a 
curse  for  men,  and  to  be  the  victim  of  sin.  And,  since  St.  Paul 
has  said  it,  I  will  rej)eat  it  after  him,  and  in  the  same  sense  as 
he,  to  be  the  member  of  sin,  and  even  sin  itself:  for  "He  was  made 
sin  for  us  who  knew  no  sin."  Then  in  this  condition,  remarks  St. 
Chrysostom,  there  was  no  j^unishment  which  was  not  due  to  Jesus 
Christ :  humiliations,  insults,  scourges,  nails,  thorns,  cross  ;  all  this, 
in  the  style  of  the  Apostle,  was  the  wages  and  deserts  of  sin  ;  and 
since  the  Son  of  God  then  represented  sin,  and  had  engaged  to  be 
treated  by  His  Father  as  though  He  were  sin  itself,  it  was  perfectly 
in  order  that  he  should  undergo  all  that  He  had  to  endure.  In  this 
sense  has  He  suffered  too  much  ?  ISTo !  His  love,  says  St.  Bernard, 
has  been  full  and  abundant,  but  it  has  not  been  prodigal :  He  calls 
Himself  a  man  of  sorrows ;  but,  replies  Tertullian,  it  is  the  name 
which  becomes  Him,  since  He  is  a  man  of  sin.  We  see  Him  torn 
and  bruised  by  blows,  but  among  the  number  of  the  blows  which 
He  received,  and  the  multitude  of  the  crimes  which  He  expiated, 
there  is  but  too  much  proportion ;  He  is  abandoned  to  wicked,  bar- 
barous and  cruel  men,  who  add  to  the  decree  of  His  death  whatever 
their  rage  suggests;  but  although  they  add  to  the  decree  of  Pilate, 


THE    PASSION    OF    JESUS    CHRIST.  55 

they  add  nothing  to  that  of  God.  He  is  maltreated  and  insulted  ; 
but  thus  did  sin,  in  substance,  merit  to  be  insulted  and  maltreated. 
He  expires  upon  the  cross ;  and  here  sin  must  be  placed.  Then, 
Christians,  rectify  your  sentiments ;  and  while  this  Divine  Lamb  is 
immolated,  instead  of  preoccupying  yourselves  with  the  merit  of 
His  holiness  and  virtues,  remember  that  it  i^  for  your  secret  and 
public  disorders  that  He  is  sacrificed ;  that  it  is  for  your  excesses, 
for  your  intemperance,  for  your  shameful  attainments  and  infamous 
pleasures.  If  you  figure  Him  to  yourselves,  such  as  He  is,  laden 
with  all  our  debts,  this  flagellation  to  which  He  is  condemned  will 
have  nothing  more  to  shock  you ;  those  thorns  which  tear  Him  will 
no  more  wound  the  delicacy  of  your  piety;  tliose  nails  with  which 
His  hands  and  feet  are  pierced  will  no  more  excite  your  indignation. 
My  sin,  you  will  say  in  yourselves,  accusing  yourselves,  My  sin 
merited  all  these  punishments  and  since  Jesus  Christ  is  clothed  with 
my  sin,  He  must  bear  them  all.  Also,  it  is  in  this  view  that  the 
eternal  Father,  by  a  conduct  as  adorable  as  rigorous,  forgetting  that 
He  is  His  Son,  and  considering  Him  as  His  enemy  (pardon  me  all 
these  expressions),  declares  Himself  His  persecutor,  or  rather  the 
chief  of  persecutors.  The  Jews  converted  their  hatred  into  a  zeal 
for  religion,  to  practice  whatever  cruelty  can  devise  upon  His  sacred 
body;  but  the  cruelty  of  the  Jews  was  not  sufficient  to  punish  such 
a  man  as  this,  a  man  covered  with  the  crimes  of  all  the  human  race  ; 
it  was  necessary,  says  St.  Ambrose,  that  God  should  interfere,  and 
this  is  what  faith  sensibly  discovers  to  us. 

Yes,  Christians,  it  is  God  Himself,  and  not  the  counsel  of  the 
Jews,  that  delivers  Jesus  Christ.  This  just  One,  my  brethren, 
said  St.  Peter,  has  not  been  delivered  as  guilty,  but  by  an  express 
order  of  God,  and  by  a  decree  of  His  wisdom :  "by  the  determinate 
counsel  and  foreknowledge  of  God,"  a  declaration  which  he  made 
in  their  synagogue,  without  fearing  that  they  would  value  themselves 
upon  it,  or  take  any  advantage  of  it,  to  stifle  the  remorse  of  the  deicide 
which  they  had  committed.  It  is  true  that  the  Pharisees  and  the 
doctors  of  the  law  persecuted  Jesus  Christ  to  kill  Him.  But  they  did 
not  persecute  Him,  O  Lord,  said  David,  by  the  spirit  of  prophecy, 
until  Thou  hadst  smitten  Him  first.  Until  then  they  respected 
Him;  until  then,  however  exasperated  they  might  be,  they  dared 
not  attempt  His  person.  But  from  the  moment  that  Thou  art  turned 
against  Him,  and  discharging  Thy  wrath  upon  Him,  hast  given  them 
permission,  they  have  thrown  themselves  upon  this  innocent  prey, 
reserved  for  their  fury.  But  by  whom  reserved,  unless  by  Thee,  O 
my  God,  who,  in  their  sacrilegious  vengeance,  found   the  accom- 


56  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

plishment  of  Thine  holy  anger?  For  it  was  Thyself,  0  Lord,  who 
justly  changed  into  an  incensed  Grod,  madest  not  merely  Thy  serv- 
ant Job,  but  also  Thine  only  Son  to  feel  the  weight  of  Thine  arm. 
Long  didst  Thou  look  for  this  victim.  He  was  needful  to  repair  Thy 
glory  and  satisfy  Thy  justice.  Thou  didst  delight  in  Him ;  but 
seeing  none  but  vile  subjects  in  the  world,  but  guilty  offenders,  but 
feeble  men,  whose  actions  and  sufferings  could  not  merit  any  thing 
in  Thy  sight,  Thou  didst  find  Thyself  reduced  to  a  kind  of  impo- 
tency  to  avenging  Thj^self  Now  Thou  hast  Avherewith  to  do  it  fully : 
for  behold  a  victim  worthy  of  Thyself;  a  victim  capable  of  expiating 
the  sins  of  a  thousand  worlds;  a  victim  such  as  Thou  requirest  and 
dost  justly  deserve.  Strike  now,  Lord  !  Strike  !  This  victim  is  dis- 
posed to  receive  Thy  blows !  And  without  considering  that  He  is 
Thy  Christ,  behold  Him  but  to  remember  that  He  is  our's ;  that  He 
is  our  substitute;  and  that  in  immolating  Him,  Thou  wilt  satisfy 
that  Divine  hatred  with  which  Thou  viewest  sin  ! 

Grod  does  not  content  Himself  with  striking  Him :  He  seems  to 
wish  to  reject  Him,  by  forsaking  and  abandoning  Him  in  the  midst 
of  His  punishment.  This  desertion  and  abandonment  of  God  are  in 
some  respect  the  punishment  of  the  damned,  which  Jesus  Christ 
suffered  for  us  all,  agreeably  to  the  language  of  Saint  Paul.  The 
reprobation  of  man  would  have  been  too  trifling  a  thing  to  punish 
sin  in  all  the  extent  of  its  malice.  It  was  necessary,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  to  use  the  language — but  you  will  discern  its  meaning,  and  I 
do  not  fear  that  you  will  suspect  me  of  understanding  it  in  an  im- 
proper sense — it  was  necessary  that  the  sensible  reprobation  of  the 
God-man  should  fill  up  the  measure  of  the  malediction  and  punish- 
ment due  to  sin.  0  prophet,  thou  hast  said,  that  thou  hast  never 
seen  the  righteous  forsaken,  but  behold  a  memorable  example  which 
thou  canst  not  deny  !  Jesus  Christ  forsaken  of  His  Heavenly  Father, 
and  on  this  account  scarcely  daring  to  address  Him  as  Father,  only 
calling  Him  His  God  !     "  My  God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  Me  ?" 

Nevertheless,  be  not  offended  at  this,  since  after  all,  there  is 
nothing  in  this  procedure  of  God  which  is  not  according  to  the 
rules  of  equity.  No,  concludes  St.  Augustin,  there  never  was  a 
death  at  once  more  just  and  more  unjust,  than  that  of  the  Ee- 
deemer ;  more  unjust  with  respect  to  the  men  who  were  the  exe- 
cutors of  it,  more  just  with  respect  to  Him  who  has  endured  the 
sentence  of  it.  Consider,  my  dear  hearers  (this  is  the  reflection 
of  the  Abbe  Eupert,  with  which  you  will  perhaps  be  surprised, 
but  which  is  a  certain  truth  in  theology),  consider  that  this  day 
is    singularly  and   sovereignly  the   day  predicted   by  the   oracles 


THE    PASSION    OP    JESUS    CHRIST.  57 

of  all  the  Scriptures,  as  the  day  of  the  Lord's  vengeance.  For  it 
is  not  in  the  last  judgment  that  our  offended  and  indignant  God 
will  satisfy  Himself  as  a  God.  It  is  not  in  hell  that  He  will  de- 
clare Himself  more  formally  the  God  of  vengeance  ;  it  is  on  Calvary. 
It  is  there  that  His  vindictive  justice  acts  freely  and  without  re- 
straint, not  being  checked,  as  it  is  elsewhere,  by  the  littleness  of  the 
subject  against  which  it  is  exercised.  All  that  the  damned  shall 
suffer  is  only  a  half  vengeance  to  Him.  Those  gnashings  of  teeth, 
those  groans  and  those  tears,  those  fires  w^hich  shall  never  be  extin- 
guished, all  this  is  nothing,  or  almost  nothing,  when  compared  with 
the  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ  in  His  death. 

Behold,  my  dear  hearers,  what  sin  costs  a  God !  But  what  has  it 
cost  us  up  to  the  present  moment  ?  And  in  view  of  the  fearful  con- 
trast which  we  find  between  Him  and  us,  between  Him,  all  holy  as  He 
is,  and  ourselves,  all  guilty  as  w^e  are,  has  He  not  a  right  to  saj^  to  us, 
"  Weep  not  for  Me,  but  for  yourselves  !"  For,  is  it  not  the  most  de- 
plorable subversion  to  see  the  guilty  spared,  while  the  righteous  en- 
dures punishment,  and  so  severe  a  punishment  ?  sinners  preserved 
and  indulofed,  while  the  innocent  is  sacrificed  ?  sin  even  in  honor 
and  ease,  while,  if  I  may  thus  speak,  the  resemblance  of  sin  is  in  igno- 
miny and  torments  ?  Yet,  ye  men  of  the  world,  ye  men  of  ease  and 
sensuality,  this  is  the  sorrowful  jDarallel  which  here  presents  itself  to 
your  eyes,  and  which  must  cover  you  wdth  confusion  !  This  Lamb 
without  spot  dies  !  this  Lamb,  who  is  made  the  victim  of  sin  for  us! 
And  how  does  He  die  ?  Mangled  and  bloody,  crowned  with  thorns 
and  fastened  to  a  cross !  And  you,  worthy  of  all  the  plagues  and 
chastisements  of  Heaven,  how  do  you  live  ?  Tranquil,  and  seeking 
all  the  conveniences,  enjoying  all  the  ease,  tasting  all  the  sweets  of 
your  condition !  Ah  !  Lord,  since  sin,  that  monster  which  hell  has 
created  against  Thee,  has  caused  Thee  death,  and  the  death  of  the 
cross,  it  would  be  enough  for  grateful  hearts  to  conceive  against  it 
all  the  hatred  of  which  they  are  capable  !  But  Thou  hast  commanded 
us  not  to  weep  for  Thee,  but  rather  to  shed  tears  over  ourselves.  And 
since  sin  causes  death  to  us,  not  a  natural  and  temporal  death  like 
Thine,  but  a  spiritual,  an  eternal  death,  should  we  not  employ  our- 
selves in  its  destruction  ?  And  yet,  instead  of  laboring  to  de- 
stroy it  in  ourselves,  we  entertain  it,  we  cherish  it,  we  suffer  it  to 
control  us.  Is  there  any  penitence  in  Christianity,  or  if  there 
is,  what  is  the  penitence  of  Christians,  and  in  what  does  it  consist ! 
Is  it  a  penitence  which  chastises  the  body,  a  penitence  which  morti- 
fies the  senses,  a  penitence  which  crucifies  the  flesh  ?  You  know  it 
is,  my  dear  hearers  ;  and  what  must  more  sensibly  touch  you,  is  to 


58  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

see  the  passion  of  Jesus  Christ,  not  merely  caused  by  sin,  but  re- 
newed by  sin,  as  I  am  going  to  show  you  in  the  second  part. 

Second  Part. — The  Passion  of  Jesus  Christ,  however  sorrowful 
and  ignominious  it  may  appear  to  us,  must  nevertheless  have  been 
to  Jesus  Christ  Himself  an  object  of  delight,  since  this  God-man,  by 
a  wonderful  secret  of  His  wisdom  and  love,  has  willed  that  the 
mystery  of  it  shall  be  continued  and  solemnly  renewed  in  His 
Church  until  the  final  consummation  of  the  world.  For  what  is  the 
Eucharist  but  a  perpetual  repetition  of  the  Saviour's  Passiou,  and 
"what  has  the  Saviour  supposed  in  instituting  it,  but  that  whatever 
passed  at  Calvary  is  not  only  represented  but  consummated  on  our 
altars  ?  That  is  to  say,  that  He  is  still  performing  the  functions  of 
the  victim  anew,  and  is  every  moment  virtually  sacrificed,  as  though, 
it  -were  not  suf&cient  that  He  should  have  suffered  once.  At  least 
that  His  love,  as  powerful  as  it  is  free,  has  given  to  His  adorable 
sufferings  that  character  of  perpetuity  which  they  have  in  the  sacra- 
ment, and  which  renders  them  so  salutary  to  us.  Behold,  Christians, 
what  the  love  of  a  God  has  devised  ;  but  behold,  also,  what  has  hap- 
pened through  the  malice  of  men  !  At  the  same  time  that  Jesus 
Christ,  in  the  sacrament  of  His  hodij,  repeats  His  holy  passion  in  a 
manner  altogether  mysterious,  men,  the  false  imitators,  or  rather 
base  corrupters  of  the  works  of  God,  have  found  means  to  renew 
this  same  passion,  not  onlj^  in  a  profane,  but  criminal,  sacrilegious, 
and  horrible  manner ! 

Do  not  imagine  that  I  speak  figuratively.  Would  to  God, 
Christians,  that  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you  were  only  a  figure, 
and  that  you  were  justified  in  vindicating  yourselves  to-day  against 
the  horrible  expressions  which  I  am  obliged  to  employ  !  I  speak 
in  the  literal  sense;  and  you  ought  to  be  more  affected  with  this 
discourse,  if  what  I  advance  appears  to  you  to  be  overcharged ; 
for  it  is  by  your  excesses  that  it  is  so,  and  not  by  my  words  !  Yes, 
my  dear  hearers,  the  sinners  of  the  age,  by  the  disorders  of  their 
lives,  renew  the  bloody  and  tragic  Passion  of  the  Son  of  God 
in  the  world;  I  will  venture  to  say  that  the  sinners  of  the  age, 
cause  to  the  Son  of  God,  even  in  the  state  of  glory,  as  many  new 
passions  as  they  have  committed  outrages  against  Him  by  their 
actions  !  Apply  yourselves  to  form  an  idea  of  them ;  and  in  this  pic- 
ture, which  will  surprise  you,  recognize  what  you  are,  that  you  may 
weej)  bitterly  over  yourselves !  What  do  we  see  in  the  Passion  of 
Jesus  Christ  ?  A  Divine  Saviour  betrayed  and  abandoned  by  cow- 
ardly disciples,  persecuted  by  pontiffs  and  hypocritical  priests,  ridi- 


THE    PASSION    OF    JESUS    CHRIST.  59 

culed  and  mocked  in  tlie  palace  of  Herod  bj  impious  courtiers, 
placed  upon  a  level  witli  Barabbas,  and  to  wliom  Barabbas  is  pre- 
ferred by  a  blind  and  inconstant  people,  exposed  to  the  insults  of 
libertinism,  and  treated  as  a  mock-king  by  a  troop  of  soldiers  equally 
barbarous  and  insolent ;  in  line,  crucified  by  merciless  executioners  ! 
Behold,  in  a  few  words,  what  is  most  humiliating  and  most  cruel  in 
the  death  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  Then  tell  me  if  this  is  not 
precisely  what  we  now  see,  of  what  we  are  every  day  called  to  be 
witnesses.     Let  us  resume  ;  and  follow  me. 

Betrayed  and  abandoned  by  cowardly  disciples :  such,  0  divine 
Saviour,  has  been  thy  destiny.  But  it  was  not  enough  that  the  apos- 
tles, the  first  men  whom  Thou  didst  choose  for  Thine  own,  in  viola- 
tion of  the  most  holy  engagement,  should  have  forsaken  Thee  in  the 
last  scene  of  Thy  life :  that  one  of  them  should  have  sold  Thee, 
another  renounced  Thee,  and  all  disgraced  themselves  by  a  flight 
which  was  perhaps  the  most  sensible  of  all  the  wounds  that  Thou 
didst  feel  in  dying.  This  wound  must  be  again  opened  by  a  thousand 
acts  of  infidelity  yet  more  scandalous.  Even  in  the  Christian  ages 
we  must  see  men  bearing  the  character  of  Thy  disciples,  and  not  hav- 
ing the  resolution  to  sustain  it ;  Christians,  prevaricators  and  desert- 
ers from  their  faith  ;  Christians  ashamed  of  declaring  themselves  for 
Thee,  not  daring  to  appear  what  they  are,  renouncing  at  least  in  the 
exterior  what  they  have  professed,  flying  when  they  ought  to  fight ; 
in  a  word.  Christians  in  form,  ready  to  follow  Thee  even  to  the  Sup- 
per when  in  prosperity,  and  while  it  required  no  sacrifice,  but  re- 
solved to  abandon  Thee  in  the  moment  of  temptation.  It  is  on  your 
account,  and  my  own,  my  dear  hearers,  that  I  speak,  and  behold 
what  ought  to  be  the  subject  of  our  sorrow. 

A  Saviour  mortally  persecuted  by  pontiffs  and  hypocritical 
priests.  Let  us  not  enter.  Christians,  into  the  discussion  of  this  arti- 
cle, at  which  your  piety  would  perhaps  be  offended,  and  which  would 
weaken  or  prejudice  the  respect  which  you  owe  to  the  ministers  of 
the  Lord.  It  belongs  to  us,  my  brethren,  to  meditate  to-day  on  this 
fact  in  the  spirit  of  holy  compunction ;  to  us  consecrated  to  the 
ministry  of  the  altars,  to  us  priests  of  Jesus  Christ,  whom  God  has 
chosen  in  His  Church  to  be  the  dispensers  of  His  sacraments.  It 
does  not  become  me  to  remonstrate  in  this  place.  God  forbid  that  I 
should  undertake  to  judge  those  who  sustain  the  sacred  of&ce !  This 
is  not  the  duty  of  humility  to  which  my  condition  calls  me  !  Above 
all,  speaking  as  I  do,  before  many  ministers,  the  irreprehensible  life 
of  whom  contributes  so  much  to  the  edification  of  the  people,  I  am 
not  yet  so  infatuated  as  to  make  myself  the  judge,  much  less  the 


60  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

censor  of  their  conduct.  But  thougli  it  should  induce  you  only  to 
acknowledge  the  favors  with  which  God  prevents  you,  as  a  contrast, 
from  the  frightful  blindness  into  which  He  permits  others  to  fall ; 
remember  that  the  priests,  and  the  princes  of  the  priests,  are  those 
whom  the  Evangelist  describes  as  the  authors  of  the  conspiracy 
formed  against  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  and  of  the  wickedness  com- 
mitted against  Him.  Eemember  that  this  scandal  is  notoriously  pub- 
lic, and  renewed  still  every  day  in  Christianity.  Eemember,  but  with 
fear  and  horror,  that  the  greatest  persecutors  of  Jesus  Christ  are  not 
lay  libertines,  but  wicked  priests ;  and  that  among  the  wicked  priests, 
those  whose  corruption  and  iniquity  are  covered  with  the  vail  of  hy- 
pocrisy, are  His  most  dangerous  and  most  cruel  enemies  !  A  hatred, 
disguised  under  the  name  of  zeal,  and  covered  with  the  specious 
pretext  of  observance  of  the  law,  was  the  first  movement  of  the  per- 
secution which  the  Pharisees  and  the  priests  raised  against  the  Son 
of  God !  Let  us  fear  lest  the  same  passion  should  blind  us !  Wretched 
passion,  exclaims  St.  Bernard,  which  spreads  the  venom  of  its  ma- 
lignity even  over  the  most  lovely  of  the  children  of  men,  and  Avhich 
could  not  see  a  God  upon  earth  without  hating  Him  !  A  hatred 
not  onl}"  of  the  prosperity  and  happiness,  but  what  is  yet  more 
strange,  of  the  merit  and  perfection  of  others !  A  cowardly  and 
shameful  passion ;  which,  not  content  with  having  caused  the  death 
of  Jesus  Christ,  continues  to  persecute  Him  by  rending  His  mj^-stical 
body,  which  is  the  Church  ;  dividing  His  members,  which  are  be- 
lievers ;  and  stifling  in  their  hearts  that  charity  which  is  the  spirit  of 
Christianity  !  Behold,  my  brethren,  the  subtle  temptation  against 
which  we  have  to  defend  ourselves,  and  under  which  it  is  but  too 
common  for  us  to  fall ! 

A  Eedeemer  reviled  and  mocked  in  the  palace  of  Herod  by  the 
impious  creatures  of  his  court.  This  was,  without  doubt,  one  of  the 
most  sensible  insults  which  Jesus  Christ  received.  But  do  not  sup- 
pose. Christians,  that  this  act  of  impiety  ended  there.  It  has  passed 
from  the  court  of  Herod,  from  that  prince  destitute  of  religion,  into 
those  even  of  Christian  princes.  And  is  not  the  Saviour  still  a  sub- 
ject of  ridicule  to  the  libertine  spirits  which  compose  them  ?  They 
worship  Him  externally,  but  internally  how  do  they  regard  His 
maxims  ?  What  idea  have  they  of  His  humility,  of  His  poverty, 
of  His  sufferings  ?  Is  not  virtue  either  unknown  or  despised  ?  It 
is  not  a  rash  zeal  which  induces  me  to  speak  in  this  manner ;  it  is 
what  you  too  often  witness,  Christians ;  it  is  what  you  perhaps  feel 
in  yourselves  ;  and  a  little  reflection  upon  the  manners  of  the  court, 
will  convince  you  that  there  is  nothing  that  I  say  which  is  not  con- 


THE    PASSION    OP    JESUS    CHRIST.  Ql 

firmed  bj  a  thousand  examples ;  and  that  you  yourselves  are  some- 
times unhappy  accomplices  in  these  crimes.  Herod  had  often  earn- 
estly wished  to  see  Jesus  Christ.  The  reputation  which  so  many 
miracles  had  given  Him  excited  the  curiosity  of  this  prince,  and 
he  did  not  doubt  but  that  a  man  who  commanded  all  nature,  might 
strike  some  wonderful  blow  to  escape  from  the  persecution  of  His 
enemies.  But  the  Son  of  God,  who  had  not  been  sparing  of  His 
prodigies  for  the  salvation  of  others,  spared  them  for  Himself,  and 
would  not  say  a  single  word  about  His  own  safety.  He  considered 
Herod  and  his  people  as  profane  persons,  with  whom  He  thought  it 
improper  to  hold  any  intercourse,  and  He  preferred  rather  to  pass 
for  a  fool,  than  to  satisfy  the  false  wisdom  of  the  world.  As  His 
kingdom  was  not  of  this  world,  as  He  said  to  Pilate,  it  was  not  at 
the  court  that  He  designed  to  establish  Himself.  He  knew  too 
well  that  His  doctrine  could  not  be  relished  in  a  place  where  the 
rules  of  worldly  wisdom  only  were  followed,  and  where  all  the 
miracles  which  He  had  performed,  had  not  been  sufiicient  to  gain 
men  full  of  love  for  themselves,  and  intoxicated  with  their  greatness. 
In  this  corrupted  region  they  breathe  only  the  air  of  vanity  ;  they  es- 
teem onl}-  that  which  is  splendid  they  speak  only  of  preferment : 
and  on  whatever  side  we  cast  our  eyes,  we  see  nothing  but  what 
either  flatters  or  inflames  the  ambitious  desires  of  the  heart  of  man. 
What  probability  then  was  there  that  Jesus  Christ,  the  most  hum- 
ble of  all  men,  should  obtain  an  hearing  where  only  pageantry  and 
pride  prevail  ?  If  He  had  been  surrounded  with  honors  and  riches, 
He  would  have  found  partisans  near  Herod,  and  in  every  other  place. 
But  as  He  preached  a  renunciation  of  the  world  both  to  His  disci- 
ples and  to  Himself,  let  us  not  be  astonished  that  they  treated  Him 
with  so  much  disdain.  Such  is  the  prediction  of  the  holy  man  Job, 
and  which  after  Him  must  be  accomplished  in  the  person  of  all  the 
righteous  ;  "  the  upright  man  is  laughed  to  scorn."  In  fact,  my  dear 
hearers,  you  know  that,  whatever  virtue  and  merit  we  may  possess, 
they  are  not  enough  to  procure  us  esteem  at  court.  Enter  it,  and 
appear  only  like  Jesus  Christ  clothed  with  the  robe  of  innocence. 
Only  walk  with  Jesus  Christ  in  the  way  of  simplicity  ;  only  speak 
as  Jesus  Christ  to  render  testimony  to  the  truth  ;  and  you  will  find 
that  you  meet  with  no  better  treatment  there  than  Jesus  Christ.  To 
be  well  received  there,  you  must  have  pomp  and  splendor.  To  keep 
your  station  there,  you  must  have  artifice  and  intrigue.  To  be  favor- 
ably heard  there,  you  must  have  complaisance  and  flattery.  Then  all 
this  is  opposed  to  Jesus  Christ ;  and  the  court  being  what  it  is,  that  is 
to  say,  the  kingdom  of  the  prince  of  this  world,  it  is  not  surprising 


62  LOUIS    BOURDALOUB. 

that  the  kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ  can  not  be  established  there.  But 
woe  to  you,  princes  of  the  earth.  Woe  to  you,  men  of  the  world,  who 
despise  this  incarnate  wisdom  ;  for  you  shall  be  despised  in  your  turn ; 
and  the  contempt  which  shall  fall  upon  you,  shall  be  much  more  ter- 
rible than  the  contempt  which  you  manifest  can  be  prejudicial. 

A  Saviour  placed  upon  a  level  with  Barabbas,  and  to  whom 
Barabbas  is  preferred  by  a  blind  and  fickle  rabble.  How  often  have 
we  been  guilty  of  the  same  outrage  against  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  blind 
and  fickle  Jews !  How  often,  after  having  received  Him  in  triumph 
in  the  sacrament  of  the  communion,  seduced  by  cupidity,  have  we 
not  preferred  either  a  pleasure  or  interest  after  which  we  sought,  in 
violation  of  His  law,  to  this  God  of  glory !  How  often,  divided 
between  conscience  which  governed  us,  and  passion  which  corrupted 
us,  have  we  not  renewed  this  abominable  judgment,  this  unworthy 
preference  of  the  creature  even  above  our  God !  Christians,  observe 
this  application ;  it  is  that  of  St.  Chrj'sostom,  and  if  you  properly 
understand  it,  you  must  be  affected  by  it.  Conscience,  which  in 
spite  of  ourselves,  presides  in  ns  as  judge,  said  inwardly  to  us, 
"What  art  thou  going  to  do?  behold  thy  pleasure  on  the  one  hand, 
and  thy  God  on  the  other :  for  which  of  the  two  dost  thou  declare 
thyself?  for  thou  canst  not  save  both ;  thou  must  either  lose  thy 
pleasure  or  thy  God ;  and  it  is  for  thee  to  decide."  And  the  passion, 
which  by  a  monstrous  infidelity,  had  acquired  the  influence  over 
our  hearts,  made  us  conclude — I  will  keep  my  pleasure.  "  But  what 
then  will  become  of  thy  God,"  rei:)lied  conscience  secretlv,  "  and  what 
must  I  do ;  I,  who  can  not  prevent  myself  from  maintaining  his 
interests  against  thee?"  I  care  not  what  will  become  of  my  God, 
answered  passion  insolently ;  I  will  satisfy  myself,  and  the  resolu- 
tion is  taken.  "  But  dost  thou  know,"  proceeded  conscience  by  its 
remorse,  "that  in  indulging  thyself  in  this  pleasure  it  will  at  last  sub- 
mit thy  Saviour  to  death  and  crucifixion  for  thee  ?"  It  is  of  no  con- 
sequence if  He  be  crucified,  provided  I  can  have  my  enjoyments. 
"  But  what  evil  has  He  done,  and  what  reason  hast  thou  to  abandon 
Him  in  this  manner  ?"  My  pleasure  is  my  reason ;  and  since  Christ 
is  the  enemy  of  my  pleasure,  and  my  pleasure  crucifies  Him,  I  say 
it  aofain,  let  Him  be  crucified. 

Behold,  my  dear  hearers,  what  passes  every  day  in  the  consciences 
of  men,  and  what  passes  in  you  and  in  me,  every  time  that  we  fall 
into  sin,  which  causes  death  to  Jesus  Christ,  as  well  as  to  our  souls ! 
Behold  what  makes  the  enormity  and  wickedness  of  this  sin  !  I  know 
that  we  do  not  always  speak,  that  we  do  not  always  explain  ourselves 
in  such  express  terms  and  in  so  perceptible  a  manner ;  but  after  all, 


THE    PASSION    OP    JESUS    CnHIST.  63 

■without  explaining  ourselves  so  distinctly  and  so  sensibly,  there  is  a 
language  of  the  heart  which  says  all  this.  For,  from  the  moment  that 
I  know  that  this  pleasure  is  criminal  and  forbidden  of  God,  I  know 
that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  desire  it,  impossible  to  seek  it,  with- 
out losing  God ;  and  consequently  I  prefer  this  pleasure  to  God  in 
the  desire  that  I  form  of  it,  and  in  the  pursuit  that  I  make  after  it. 
This,  then,  is  sufi&cient  to  justify  the  thought  of  St.  Chrysostom,  and 
the  doctrine  of  the  theologians  upon  the  nature  of  deadly  sin. 

A  Saviour  exposed  to  insults,  and  treated  as  a  mock-king  by  a 
troop  of  feigned  worshipers.  What  a  spectacle,  Christians !  Jesus 
Christ,  the  eternal  Word,  covered  with  a  pitiful,  purple  robe,  a  reed 
in  His  hand,  a  crown  of  thorns  upon  His  head,  delivered  to  an  inso- 
lent soldiery,  who,  according  to  the  expression  of  Clement  Alex- 
andrine, made  a  theatrical  king  of  Him  whom  the  angels  adore  with 
trembling !  They  bowed  the  knee  before  Him,  and,  Avith  the  most 
cutting  derision,  they  snatched  from  Him  the  reed  which  He  held,  to 
strike  Him  on  the  head.  An  act  too  much  resembling  the  impieties 
which  are  every  day  committed,  during  the  celebration  of  our  most 
august  mysteries !  Were  He  to  aj)pear  in  all  His  Majesty,  such  as 
He  will  display  at  His  second  coming,  you  would  be  seized  with 
fear.  But,  says  St.  Bernard,  the  more  He  is  little,  the  more  worthy 
is  He  of  our  respects  ;  since  it  is  His  love,  and  not  necessity,  which 
reduces  Him  to  His  state  of  abasement.  But  it  appears  that  you 
take  pleasure  in  destroying  His  work,  by  opposing  your  malice  to 
His  goodness.  You  insult  Him,  even  on  the  throne  of  His  grace ;  and, 
to  use  the  words  of  the  Apostle,  you  do  not  fear  to  trample  under  foot 
the  blood  of  the  Kew  Testament !  For,  indeed,  what  else  do  you  do  by 
so  many  acts  of  irreverence,  and  so  many  scandals  which  equally  dis- 
honor the  sanctuary  which  you  enter,  and  the  God  which  it  contains  ? 
Ah.  my  brethren,  I  might  well  ask  the  greater  part  of  the  Chris- 
tians of  the  present  day,  what  St.  Bernard  asked  them  in  his  time : 
What  do  you  think  of  your  God,  and  what  idea  have  you  con- 
ceived of  Him  ?  If  He  occupied  the  rank  which  He  ought  to  oc- 
cupy in  your  minds,  would  you  proceed  to  such  extremes  in  His 
presence  ?  Would  you  go  to  His  feet  to  insult  Him  ?  for  I  call  it 
insulting  Jesus  Christ  to  come  before  the  altars  to  unbend  ourselves, 
to  amuse  ourselves,  to  speak,  to  converse,  to  trouble  the  sacred 
mysteries  by  immodest  smiles  and  laughter.  I  call  it  insulting  the 
majesty  of  Jesus  Christ,  to  remain  in  His  presence  in  indecent  post- 
ures, and  with  as  little  decorum  as  in  a  public  place.  I  call  it  in- 
sulting the  humility  of  Jesus  Christ  to  make  an  ostentatious  display 
before  His  eyes,  of  all  the  luxury  and  all  the  vanities  of  the  world. 


64  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

I  call  it  insulting  tlie  holiness  of  Jesus  Christ  to  bring  near  His  tab- 
ernacle, and  into  His  holy  bouse,  a  sbamefal  passion  wbicb  we  en- 
tertain and  kindle  afresh  there,  by  bold  looks,  by  sensual  desires,  by 
the  most  dissolute  discourses,  and  sometimes  by  the  most  sacrileg- 
ious abominations.  God  formerly  complained  of  the  infidelity  of 
His  people,  addressing  them  by  the  mouth  of  His  prophet — "  thou 
hast  profaned  My  holy  name."  But  it  is  not  only  His  name  that  we 
profane,  it  is  His  body  ;  it  is  His  blood  ;  it  is  His  infinite  merits  ;  it  is 
even  His  divinity  ;  it  is  all  that  He  possesses  that  is  venerable  and 
great.  Nevertheless,  do  not  deceive  yourselves  ;  for  the  Lord  will 
have  a  day  of  reckoning;  and,  justly  incensed  at  so  many  injuries, 
He  will  not  allow  you  to  escape  with  impunity ;  but  He  will  know 
how  to  avenge  Himself  by  covering  you  with  eternal  confusion ! 

In  fine,  Christians,  a  Saviour  crucified  by  merciless  executioners, 
the  last  effect  of  the  cruelty  of  men  upon  the  innocent  person  of 
the  Son  of  God.  It  was  at  the  foot  of  that  cross,  where  we  see  Him 
suspended,  that  the  justice  of  the  Father  waited  for  Him  during 
four  thousand  years.  Thus  He  regarded  it,  however  frightful  it 
might  seem,  as  an  object  of  delight ;  because  He  there  found  the 
reparation  of  the  divine  glory,  and  the  punishment  of  our  offenses. 
But  in  proportion  as  this  first  cross  had  charms  for  Him,  in  that 
same  proportion  does  He  feel  horror  at  that  which  our  sins  prepare 
for  Him  every  day.  It  is  not,  said  St.  Augustin,  the  rigor  of  that 
of  which  He  complains,  but  the  cruelty  and  the  weight  of  this  ap- 
pear to  Him  insupportable !  He  knew  that  His  cross,  ignominious 
as  it  was,  would  be  transferred  from  Calvary,  as  s^Dcaks  St.  Augus- 
tin, to  the  heads  of  the  emperors.  lie  foresaw  that  His  death  would 
be  the  salvation  of  the  A\orld ;  and  that  His  Father  would  one  day 
render  His  ignominy  so  glorious,  that  it  would  become  the  hope  and 
the  happiness  of  all  nations.  But  in  this  other  cross,  where  we 
asten  Him  ourselves  by  sin,  what  is  there,  and  what  can  there  be 
to  console  him?  Nothing  but  His  love  despised!  His  favors  re- 
jected, unworthy  creatures  preferred  to  the  Creator  ! 

Ktheu  the  sun  concealed  himself  that  he  might  not  give  his  light  to 
the  barbarous  action  of  his  enemies  who  crucified  him  ;  sinner,  what 
darkness  ought  not  to  cover  from  view  thy  wanderings  and  thy  ex- 
cesses ?  For  it  is  by  these — understand  it  yet  once  more,  if  you  have 
not  sufiiciently  understood  it — it  is  by  these,  my  dear  hearers,  that 
you  incessantly  renew  all  the  Passion  of  Jesus  Christ !  It  is  not  I  who 
say  it,  it  is  St.  Paul  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews :  "  They  crucify 
to  themselves  the  Son  of  God  afresh,  and  put  Him  to  an  open  shame." 
As  if  this  great  Apostle  would  explain  himself  thus.     Do  not  think, 


THE    PASSION    OF    JESUS    CHRIST.  g5 

my  brethren,  tliat  tliej  were  the  Jews  only  who  imbrued  their 
hands  in  the  blood  of  the  Saviour.  Ye  are  accomplices  in  this  dei- 
cide.  And  by  what  means  ?  By  your  impieties;  your  sacrileges;  your 
obscenities  ;  your  jealousies  ;  your  resentments  ;  your  antipathies  ; 
your  revenge,  and  whatever  corrupts  your  heart  and  excites  it  to  re- 
volt against  God !  Is  it  not  then  just,  that  while  you  weep  over  Jesus 
Christ,  you  should  yet  weep  more  over  yourselves  ?  since  ye  are  not 
only  the  authors  of  His  death,  but  your  sins  destroy  all  the  merit  of 
it,  as  it  respects  yourselves,  and  render  it  useless  and  even  preju- 
dicial to  you  ;  as  it  remains  for  me  to  prove  in  the  third  part. 

Third  Part.' — That  there  are  men  and  Christian  men,  to  whom, 
by  a  secret  judgment  of  Gocl,  the  Passion  of  Jesus  Christ,  salutary  as 
it  is,  may  become  useless,  is  a  trutli  too  essential  in  our  religion  to 
be  unknown,  and  too  sorrowful  not  to  be  the  subject  of  our  grief. 
When  the  Saviour  from  the  height  of  Uis  cross,  ready  to  give  up 
His  Spirit,  raised  this  cry  toward  heaven,  "  My  God,  My  God,  why 
hast  Thou  forsaken  Me !"  there  was  no  one  who  did  not  suppose  but 
that  the  violence  of  His  torments  forced  from  Him  this  complaint, 
and  perhaps  we  ourselves  yet  believe  it.  But  the  great  Bishop 
Arnauld  de  Chartres,  penetrating  deeper  into  the  thoughts  and  affec- 
tions of  this  dying  Saviour,  says,  with  much  more  reason,  that  the 
complaint  of  Jesus  Christ  to  His  Father,  proceeded  from  the  senti- 
ment with  which  He  was  affected,  in  representing  to  Himself  the 
little  fruit  which  His  death  would  produce ;  in  considering  the  small 
number  of  the  elect  who  would  profit  by  it ;  in  foreseeing  with  hor- 
ror, the  infinite  number  of  the  reprobate,  for  whom  it  would  be  use- 
less :  as  if  He  had  wished  to  proclaim  that  His  merits  were  not  fully 
enough,  nor  worthily  enough  remunerated;  and  that  after  having 
done  so  much  work.  He  had  a  right  to  promise  to  Himself  a  different 
success  in  behalf  of  men.  The  words  of  this  author  are  admirable  : 
Jesus  Christ  complains,  says  this  learned  prelate,  but  of  what 
does  He  complain?  That  the  wickedness  of  sinners  makes  Him  lose 
what  ought  to  be  the  reward  of  the  conflicts  which  He  has  maintained. 
That  millions  of  the  human  race  for  whom  He  suffers  will  neverthe- 
less be  excluded  from  the  benefit  of  redemption.  And  because  He  re- 
gards Himself  in  them  as  their  Head,  and  themselves,  in  spite  of  their 
worthlessness,  as  the  members  of  His  mystical  body ;  seeing  them 
abandoned  by  God,  He  complains  of  being  abandoned  Himself;  "  My 
God,  My  God,  whj  hast  Thou  forsaken  me?"  He  complains  of  what 
made  St.  Paul  groan ;  when,  transported  with  an  apostolic  zeal,  he 
said  to  the  Galatians,  "What,  my  brethren,  is  Jesus  Christ  then  dead 

5 


66  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

in  vain  ?  Is  tlie  mystery  of  the  cross  then  nothing  to  you  ?  "Will  not 
this  blood  which  He  has  so  abundantly  shed  have  the  virtue  to  sanc- 
tify you?" 

But  here,  Christians,  I  feel  myself  affected  with  a  thought  which, 
contrary  as  it  appears  to  that  of  the  Apostle,  only  serves  to  strengthen 
and  confirm  it.  For  it  appears  that  St.  Paul  is  grieved  because  Jesus 
Christ  has  suffered  in  vain  ;  but  I,  I  should  almost  console  myself  if 
He  had  only  suffered  in  vain,  and  if  His  passion  was  only  rendered 
useless  to  us.  That  which  fills  me  with  consternation  is,  that  at  the 
same  time  that  we  render  it  useless  to  ourselves,  by  an  inevitable 
necessity  it  must  become  pernicious :  for  this  passion,  says  St. 
Gregory  of  Nazianzen,  "  partakes  of  the  nature  of  those  remedies 
which  kill  if  they  do  not  heal,  and  of  which  the  effect  is  either  to 
give  life,  or  to  convert  itself  into  poison  :  lose  nothing  of  this,  I  be- 
seech you."  Eemember  then.  Christians,  what  happened  during  the 
judgment,  and  at  the  moment  of  the  condemnation  of  the  Son  of  God. 

When  Pilate  washed  his  hands  before  the  Jews,  and  declared 
to  them  that  there  was  nothing  worth}^  of  death  in  this  righteous 
Man,  but  that  the  crime  from  which  he  freed  himself  rested  upon 
them,  and  that  they  would  have  to  answer  for  it,  they  all  cried 
with  one  voice,  that  they  consented  to  it,  and  that  they  readily 
agreed  that  the  blood  of  this  just  Man  should  fall  upon  them  and 
upon  their  children.  You  know  what  this  cry  has  cost  them.  You 
know  the  curses  which  one  such  imprecation  has  drawn  upon  them, 
the  anger  of  heaven  which  began  from  that  time  to  burst  upon 
this  nation,  the  ruin  of  Jerusalem  which  followed  soon  after — the 
carnage  of  their  citizens,  the  profanation  of  their  temple,  the  destruc- 
tion of  their  republic,  the  visible  character  of  their  reprobation 
which  their  unhappy  posterity  bear  to  this  day,  that  universal  ban- 
ishment, that  exile  of  sixteen  hundred  years,  that  slavery  through 
all  the  earth — and  all  in  consequence  of  the  authentic  prediction 
which  Jesus  Christ  made  to  them  of  it  when  going  to  Calvary,  and 
with  circumstances  which  incontestably  prove  that  a  punishment  as 
exemplary  as  this,  can  not  be  imputed  but  to  the  deicide  which  they 
had  committed  in  the  person  of  the  Saviour ;  since  it  is  evident, 
says  St.  Augustine,  that  the  Jews  were  never  further  from  idolatry, 
nor  more  religious  observers  of  their  law  than  they  were  then,  and 
that,  excepting  the  crime  of  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ,  God,  very  far 
from  punishing  them,  would,  it  seems,  rather  have  loaded  them  with 
His  blessings.  You  know  all  this,  I  say  ;  and  all  this  is  a  convincing 
proof  that  the  blood  of  this  God-man  is  virtually  fallen  upon  these 
sacrilegious  men,  and  that  God,  in  condemning  them  by  their  own 


THE    PASSION    OF    JESUS    CHRIST.  67 

mouth,  altliougli  in  spite  of  Himself,  employs  that  to  destroy  them 
which  was  designed  for  their  salvation. 

But,  Christians,  to  speak  with  the  Holy  Spirit,  this  has  happened 
to  the  Jews  only  as  a  figure ;  it  is  only  the  shadow  of  the  fearful 
curses  of  which  the  abuse  of  the  merits  and  passion  of  the  Son 
of  God  must  be  to  us  the  source  and  the  measure.  I  will  explain 
myself.  What  do  we,  my  dear  hearers,  when  borne  away  by  the  im- 
moderate desires  of  our  hearts  to  a  sin  against  which  our  consciences 
protest  ?  And  what  do  we,  when,  possessed  of  the  spirit  of  the  world, 
we  resist  a  grace  which  solicits  us,  which  presses  us  to  obey  God  ? 
Without  thinking  upon  it,  and  without  wishing  it,  we  secretly  pro- 
nounce the  same  sentence  of  death  which  the  Jews  pronounced  against 
themselves  before  Pilate,  when  they  said  to  him  "  His  blood  be  upon 
us."  For  this  grace  which  we  despise,  is  the  price  of  the  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ ;  and  the  sin  that  we  commit  is  an  actual  profanation  of 
this  very  blood.  It  is,  then,  as  if  we  were  to  say  to  God — "  Lord,  I 
clearly  see  what  engagement  I  make,  and  I  know  what  risk  I  run, 
but  rather  than  not  satisfy  my  own  desires,  I  consent  that  the  blood 
of  Thy  Son  shall  fall  upon  me.  This  will  be  to  bear  the  chastisement 
of  it ;  but  I  will  indulge  my  passion ;  Thou  hast  a  right  to  draw 
forth  from  it  a  just  indignation,  but  nevertheless  I  will  complete  my 
undertaking," 

Thus  we  condemn  ourselves.  And  here.  Christians,  is  one  of  the 
essential  foundations  of  this  terrible  mystery  of  the  eternity  of  the 
punishments  with  which  faith  threatens  us,  and  against  which  our 
reason  revolts.  We  suppose  that  we  can  not  have  any  knowledge 
of  it  in  this  life,  and  we  are  not  aware,  says  St,  Chrysostom,  that 
we  find  it  completely  in  the  blood  of  the  Saviour,  or  rather  in  our 
profanation  of  it  every  day.  For  this  blood,  my  brethren,  adds  this 
holy  doctor,  is  enough  to  make  eternity,  not  less  frightful,  but  less 
incredible.  And  behold  the  reason,  This  blood  is  of  an  infinite  dig- 
nity ;  it  can  therefore  be  avenged  only  by  an  infinite  punishment. 
This  blood,  if  we  destroy  ourselves,  will  cry  eternally  against  us  at 
the  tribunal  of  God,  It  will  eternally  excite  the  wrath  of  God 
against  us.  This  blood,  falling  upon  lost  souls,  will  fix  a  stain  upon 
them,  which  shall  never  be  effaced.  Their  torments  must  conse- 
quently never  end,  A  reprobate  in  hell  will  always  appear  in  the 
eyes  of  God  stained  with  that  blood  which  he  has  so  basely  treated- 
God  will  then  always  abhor  him  ;  and,  as  the  aversion  of  God  from 
His  creature  is  that  which  makes  hell,  it  must  be  inferred  that 
hell  will  be  eternal.  And  in  this,  O  my  God,  Thou  art  sovereignly 
just,  sovereignly  holy,  and  worthy  of  our  praise  and  adoration.     It 


68  LOUIS    BOURDALOUE. 

is  in  this  way  tliat  the  beloved  disciple  declared  it  even  to  God  Him- 
self in  the  Aj)ocalypse.  Men,  said  he,  have  shed  the  blood  of  Thy 
servants  and  of  Thy  prophets ;  therefore  they  deserve  to  drink  it,  and 
to  drink  it  from  the  cup  of  Thine  indignation.  "  For  they  have  shed 
the  blood  of  saints  and  prophets,  and  Thou  hast  given  them  blood  to 
drink."  An  expression  which  the  Scripture  employs  to  describe 
the  extreme  infliction  of  Divine  vengeance.  Ah !  if  the  blood  of  the 
prophets  has  drawn  down  the  scourge  of  God  upon  men,  what  may 
we  not  expect  from  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  If  the  blood  of 
martyrs  is  heard  crying  out  in  heaven  against  the  persecutors  of  the 
faith,  how  much  more  will  the  blood  of  the  Eedeemer  be  heard ! 

Then  once  more,  Christians,  behold  the  deplorable  necessity  to 
which  we  are  reduced.  This  blood  which  flows  from  Calvary  either 
demands  grace  for  us,  or  justice  against  us.  When  we  apply  our- 
selves to  it  by  a  lively  faith,  and  a  sincere  repentance,  it  demands 
grace ;  but  when  by  our  disorders  and  impieties,  we  check  its  salu- 
tary virtue,  it  demands  justice,  and  it  infallibly  obtains  it.  It  is  in 
this  blood,  says  St.  Bernard,  that  all  righteous  souls  are  purified; 
but  by  a  prodigy  exactly  opposite,  it  is  also  in  this  same  blood  that 
all  the  sinners  of  the  land  defile  themselves,  and  render  themselves, 
if  I  may  use  the  expression,  more  hideous  in  the  sight  of  God. 

Ah !  my  God,  shall  I  eternally  appear  in  Thine  eyes  polluted  with 
that  blood  which  washes  away  the  crimes  of  others  ?  If  I  had  sim- 
ply to  bear  my  own  sins,  I  might  promise  myself  a  punishment  less 
rigorous,  considering  my  sins  as  my  misfortune,  my  weakness,  my 
ignorance.  Then,  perhaps,  thou  wouldest  be  less  offended  on  ac- 
count of  them.  But  when  these  sins  with  which  I  shall  be  cov- 
ered, shall  present  themselves  before  me  as  so  many  sacrileges  with 
respect  to  the  blood  of  Thy  Son ;  when  the  abuse  of  this  blood 
shall  be  mixed  and  confounded  with  all  the  disorders  of  my  life ; 
when  there  shall  not  be  one  of  them  against  which  this  blood  shall 
not  cry  louder  than  the  blood  of  Abel  against  Cain;  then,  0  God 
of  my  soul !  what  will  become  of  me  in  Thy  presence  ?  No,  Lord, 
cries  the  same  St.  Bernard,  affectionately,  suffer  not  the  blood  of  my 
Saviour  to  fail  upon  me  in  this  manner.  Let  it  fall  upon  me  to  sanc- 
tify, but  let  it  not  fail  upon  me  to  destroy !  Let  it  fall  upon  me 
in  a  right  use  of  the  favors  which  are  the  Divine  overflowings  of 
it,  and  not  through  the  blindness  of  mind  and  hardness  of  heart, 
which  are  the  most  terrible  punishments  of  it.  Let  it  fall  upon  me 
by  the  participation  of  the  sacred  Eucharist,  which  is  the  precious 
source  of  it,  and  not  by  the  maledictions  attached  to  the  despisers 
of  Thy  sacraments !     In  fine,  let  it  fall  upon  me  by  influencing  my 


.THE    PASSION    OF    JESUS    CHRIST.  gg 

conduct  and  inducing  the  practice  of  good  works,  and  let  it  not 
fall  upon  me  for  my  wanderings,  my  infidelities,  my  obstinacy,  and 
my  impenitence  !  This,  my  brethren,  is  what  we  ought  to  ask  to- 
day from  Jesus  Christ  crucified.  It  is  with  these  views  that  we  ought 
to  go  to  the  foot  of  His  cross  and  catch  the  blood  as  it  flows.  He 
was  the  Saviour  of  the  Jews  as  well  as  of  us ;  but  this  Saviour,  says 
St.  Augustin,  the  Jews  have  converted  into  their  judge.  Avert 
from  us  such  an  evil !  May  He  who  died  to  save  us  be  our  Saviour ! 
May  He  be  our  Saviour  during  all  the  days  of  our  lives  !  And  may 
His  merits,  shed  upon  us  abundantly,  lose  none  of  their  ef&cacy  in 
our  hands,  but  be  preserved  entire  by  the  fruit  we  produce  from  them ! 
May  He  be  our  Saviour  in  death !  And  at  the  last  moment,  may  the 
cross  be  our  support,  and  thus  may  He  consummate  the  work  of  our 
salvation  which  He  has  begun  !  May  He  be  our  Saviour  in  a 
blessed  eternity,  Avhere  we  shall  be  as  much  sharers  in  His  glory  as 
we  have  been  in  His  suflferina;s ! 


DISCOURSE  FORTY-EIGHTH. 

ESPRIT    FLECHIER. 

Flechler  was  born  in  the  year  1632,  at  Pernes,  a  small  village  near 
Avignon,  and  died  at  MontpeUier  in  1710.  His  studies  were  completed 
at  the  early  age  of  fifteen,  when  he  became  teacher  of  Belles  lettres, 
where  he  had  been  educated.  His  first  ecclesiastical  charge  was  the 
Bishopric  of  Nismes,  to  which  he  was  appointed  by  Louis  XIV.,  who,  at 
the  time  of  the  appointment,  exj^ressed  his  regret  at  being  deprived  of 
hearmg  him  longer  at  Paris.  Though  a  strict  Cathohc,  Flechier  seems 
to  have  possessed  a  kmd  and  lovely  disj^ositicm,  and  a  generosity  worthy 
of  imitation.  In  eloquence  he  almost  divides  the  supremacy  with  Bos- 
suet.  The  latter  has  been  compared  to  Demosthenes,  the  former,  to 
Isocrates.  Bossuet  had  more  of  comprehensive  grasp,  vehement  energy, 
spontaneous  beauty,  and  overwhelming  grandeur ;  but  Flechier  excelled 
him  in  neatness,  softness,  regularity,  and  harmony  of  language.  La 
Harpe  gives  as  his  most  striking  qualities,  spirit,  elegance,  purity,  just- 
ness, and  deUcacy  of  ideas,  and  an  ornamented,  flowery,  harmonious 
diction,  Flechier's  reputation  rests  mainly  upon  his  funeral  orations, 
which  place  him  among  the  first  pulpit  orators.  His  best  is  that  which 
follows,  on  the  death  of  Marshal  Turenne.  In  delivering  it,  his  fervid  elo- 
quence held  the  congregation  breathless ;  and  when  he  came  to  the  pass- 
age, "  I  am  troubled — Turenne  is  dying,"  etc.,  it  is  said  that  they  burst 
forth  in  sobs  and  tears,  as  if  themselves  were  present  at  the  mournful 
spectacle. 


FUNEEAL  OEATION  FOE  HENEI  DE  LA  TOUE- 
D'AUVEEGNE,* 

VISCOUNT  TURENNE,   MARSHAL   GENERAL  OF  THE  ARMY,   ETC. 

"  All  the  people  of  Israel  greatly  bewailed  him.     They  wept  many  days,  and  said, 
"Why  is  that  great  man  dead,  who  saved  the  people  of  Israel  ?" — 1  Mac.  c.  9. 

I  can  not,  messieurs,  at  the  outset,  give  you  a  higher  idea  of  the 
mournful  subject  with  which  I  am  about  to  occupy  your  attention, 
*  Pronounced  at  Paris,  in  the  Church  of  St.  Eustache,  January  10th,  1616. 


FUNERAL  ORATION  FOR  TURENNE.         71 

than  by  citing  tlie  noble  and  expressive  terms  used  by  tlie  Scriptures 
to  praise  the  life  and  deplore  the  death  of  the  sage  and  valiant  Mac- 
cabeus— the  man  who  spread  the  glory  of  his  nation  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth ;  who  covered  his  camp  with  a  buckler,  and  forced  that 
of  the  enemy  with  the  sword ;  who  subdued  the  kings  leagued 
against  him,  and  rejoiced  Jacob  with  those  virtues  and  exploits,  the 
memory  of  which  shall  endure  forever.  This  man,  who  defended 
the  cities  of  Judah,  who  subdued  the  pride  of  the  children  of  Am- 
mon,  and  returned  loaded  with  the  spoils  of  Samaria,  after  having 
burned  upon  their  own  altars  the  gods  of  foreign  nations ;  this  man, 
whom  God  had  thrown  around  Israel  like  a  wall  of  iron,  against 
which  all  the  forces  of  Asia  had  so  frequently  dashed  themselves  to 
pieces;  who  defeated  numerous  armies,  disconcerted  the  proudest 
and  most  accomplished  generals  of  the  King  of  Syria,  came  annually 
like  the  least  of  the  Israelites,  to  repair,  with  his  own  triumphant 
hands,  the  ruins  of  the  sanctuary,  and  desired  no  other  recompense 
for  the  services  he  had  rendered  his  country,  than  the  honor  of  hav- 
ing served  it.  This  valiant  man,  while  driving  before  him,  with 
invincible  courage,  the  enemies  whom  he  had  reduced  to  a  shameful 
flight  at  last  received  a  mortal  wound,  and  remained  buried,  as  it 
were,  in  his  own  triumph.  At  the  first  report  of  this  disaster,  all 
the  cites  of  Judab  W' ere  moved,  and  floods  of  tears  ran  from  the  eyes 
of  all  the  inhabitants.  For  a  time  they  were  confounded,  dumb,  and 
motionless.  At  length  breaking  the  long  and  mournful  silence,  in  a 
voice  interrupted  by  sobs,  they  gave  utterance  to  the  grief,  the  pity 
and  fear  which  oppressed  their  hearts,  and  exclaimed  :  "  Why  is  that 
great  man  dead,  who  saved  the  people  of  Israel !"  At  this  cry,  Je- 
rusalem redoubled  its  weeping ;  the  arches  of  the  temple  trembled ; 
Jordan  was  troubled,  and  all  its  banks  re-echoed  the  sound  of  those 
mournful  words :  "  Why  is  that  great  man  dead,  who  saved  the 
people  of  Israel !" 

Christians,  whom  a  mournful  ceremony  has  assembled  in  this 
place,  do  you  not  call  to  mind  what  you  saw  and  felt  five  months 
ago  ?"'^'"  Do  you  not  recognize  yourselves  in  the  affliction  which  I 
have  described,  and  in  your  minds  substitute,  for  the  hero  spoken  of 
in  Scripture,  him  of  whom  I  propose  to  speak  ?  The  virtues  and 
fate  of  the  one  resemble  those  of  the  other,  and  to  the  latter  nothing 
is  wanting  to-day  but  a  eulogy  worthy  of  him.  Oh,  if  the  Spirit  di- 
vine. Spirit  of  power  and  truth,  should  enrich  my  discourse  with 
those  natural  and  vivid  images  wdiich.  represent  virtue,  and,  at  the 
name  time,  persuade  to  its  practice,  with  what  lofty  conceptions  shall 
*  This  oration  was  delivered  five  montlis  after  the  death  of  Tureone. 


72  ESPRITFLECHIER. 

I  fill  your  miuds,  and  what  noble  impressions  communicate  to  your 
hearts,  by  the  recital  of  so  many  edifying  and  glorious  actions  ! 

What  subject  was  ever  better  fitted  to  receive  all  the  ornaments 
of  a  grave  and  solid  eloquence  than  the  life  and  death  of  the  high  and 
mighty  Prince  Henry  de  la  Tour  d'Auvergne,  Viscount  Turenne, 
Marshal-general  of  the  Camps  and  Armies  of  the  King,  and  Col- 
onel general  of  the  Light  Cavalry  ?  Where  shine,  with  such  luster, 
the  glorious  results  of  military  virtue,  the  conduct  of  armies,  sieges 
of  castles,  storming  of  cities,  passages  of  rivers,  bold  attacks,  honor- 
able retreats,  well-ordered  encampments,  vigorous  combats,  battles 
gained,  enemies  vanquished,  scattered  by  force  and  address,  or  worn 
out  and  consumed  by  a  sage  and  lofty  prudence  ?  Where  can  be 
found  such  numerous  and  striking  examples,  than  in  the  actions  of 
a  man  wise,  modest,  liberal,  disinterested,  devoted  to  the  service  of 
his  king  and  country,  great  in  adversity,  by  his  fortitude,  in  pros- 
perity by  his  moderation,  in  difficulties  by  his  prudence,  in  danger 
by  his  valor,  in  religion  by  his  piety  ? 

What  can  inspire  sentiments  more  just  and  affecting  than  a  death 
so  sudden  and  surprising ;  a  death  which  suspended  the  course  of 
our  victories,  and  dissipated  the  fondest  hopes  of  peace  ?  Powerful 
enemies  of  France,  ye  live,  and  the  spirit  of  Christian  charity  for- 
bids me  to  cherish  a  wish  for  your  death.  Only  may  ye  recognize 
the  justice  of  our  arms,  accept  the  peace  which,  in  spite  of  your 
losses,  ye  have  so  often  refused,  and  in  the  abundance  of  your  tears, 
extinguish  the  fires  of  a  war  which  ye  have  unfortunatel}^  kindled. 
God  forbid  that  I  should  extend  my  wishes  further.  Inscrutable  are 
the  judgments  of  God  !  You  live  ;  and  it  is  mine,  in  this  pulpit,  to 
mourn  a  sage  and  virtuous  General,  whose  intentions  were  pure,  and 
whose  virtue  seemed  to  merit  a  longer  life,  a  more  extended  career. 
But  let  us  suppress  our  complaints ;  it  is  time  to  commence  his 
eulogy,  and  to  show  how  that  powerful  man  triumphed  over  the 
enemies  of  the  state  by  his  bravery,  over  the  passions  of  his  soul  by 
his  virtue,  over  the  errors  and  vanities  of  the  world  by  his  piety. 
If  I  interrupt  the  order  of  my  discourse,  pardon  a  little  confusion  in 
a  subject  which  has  caused  us  so  much  grief.  I  may  sometimes  con- 
found the  General  of  the  army  with  the  sage  and  the  Christian.  I 
shall  praise  now  his  victories,  and  now  the  virtues  which  gained 
them.  If  I  can  not  rehearse  all  his  actions,  I  shall  discover  them  in 
their  principles  ;  I  shall  adore  the  God  of  armies,  invoke  the  God  of 
peace,  bless  the  God  of  mercy,  and  througli  the  whole  win  your  at- 
tention, not  by  the  force  of  eloquence,  but  by  the  reality  and  great- 
ness of  the  virtues  about  which  I  am  engaged  to  speak. 


FUNERAL    ORATION    FOR    TURENNE.  73 

Do  not  suppose,  messieurs,  that  I  shall  follow  the  custom  of  ora- 
tors, and  praise  M.  de  Turenne  as  ordinary  men  are  praised.  If  his 
life  had  less  of  glory,  I  should  dwell  upon  the  grandeur  and  nobility 
of  his  House  ;  and  if  his  portrait  were  less  beautiful,  would  discover 
those  of  his  ancestors.  But  the  glory  of  his  actions  effaces  that  of 
his  birth,  and  the  smallest  praise  that  can  be  given  him  is,  that  he 
sprang  from  the  ancient  and  illustrious  house  of  Tour  d'Auvergne, 
which  has  mingled  its  blood  with  that  of  kings  and  emperors,  given 
rulers  to  Aquitaine,  princes  to  all  the  courts  of  Europe,  and  queens 
even  to  that  of  France. 

Before  his  fourteenth  year  he  began  to  carry  arms.  Sieges  and 
battles  were  the  exercises  of  his  youth,  and  his  first  amusements 
were  victories.  Under  the  discipline  of  his  maternal  uncle,  the 
Prince  of  Orange,  he  learned  the  art  of  war,  in  the  quality  of  a  sim- 
ple soldier,  and  neither  pride  nor  indolence  restrained  liini  from  one 
of  his  employments  which  required  labor  and  obedience.  He  was 
seen  in  this  last  rank  of  military  service,  neither  refusing  any  labor, 
nor  dreading  any  peril ;  doing  from  a  sense  of  honor  what  others 
did  from  necessity,  and  distinguished  from  them  only  by  a  greater 
attachment  to  fatigue,  and  a  nobler  application  to  all  his  duties. 

Then  commenced  a  life  whose  career  was  yet  to  become  so  glori- 
ous, like  those  rivers  which  deepen  and  expand  the  further  they  ex- 
tend from  their  source,  and  which  carry  wealth  and  prosperity  to  all 
the  regions  through  which  they  flow.  From  that  time,  he  lived  only 
for  the  glory  and  welfare  of  his  country.  He  performed  all  the  serv- 
ices which  could  be  expected  from  a  mind  firm  and  active,  lodged 
in  a  robust  and  healthy  frame.  In  his  youth  he  had  all  the  prudence 
of  mature  age.  His  days  were  full,  to  use  the  language  of  Scripture ; 
and  as  he  did  not  lose  his  early  years  in  luxury  and  pleasure,  he  was 
not  compelled  to  spend  his  last  in  weakness  and  inactivity. 

What  enemy  of  France  has  not  felt  the  effects  of  his  valor,  and 
what  part  of  our  frontier  has  not  served  as  the  theater  of  his  glory  ? 
He  crosses  the  Alps,  and  in  the  famous  actions  of  Casal,  of  Turin, 
and  of  the  rout  of  Quiers,  he  signalizes  himself  by  his  courage  and 
prudence.  Italy  regards  him  as  one  of  the  principal  instruments  of 
those  great  and  prodigious  successes  which  posterity  will  scarcely 
credit.  He  passes  from  the  Alps  to  the  Pyrennees,  to  aid  in  the  con- 
quest of  two  important  places,  which  puts  one  of  our  finest  provinces 
under  protection  from  all  the  efforts  of  Spain.  He  goes  to  col- 
lect, beyond-  the  Ehine,  the  remnants  of  a  defeated  army  ;  he  takes 
cities,  and  assists  in  gaining  battles.  Thus  by  degrees,  and  by  his 
own  merit,  he  rises  to  supreme  command,  and  shows,  during  the 


74  ESPRIT    FLECHIER. 

wliole  course  of  Lis  life,  what  can  be  done  for  the  defense  of  a  king- 
dom by  a  General  wbo  is  rendered  worthy  to  command  by  obeying, 
and  who  joins  to  courage  and  genius  application  and  experience. 

Then  it  was  that  his  mind  and  heart  displayed  all  their  energies. 
Whether  called  to  arrange  matters,  or  bring  them  to  an  issue ;  to 
pursue  victory  with  ardor,  or  wait  for  it  with  patience  ;  whether  to 
counteract  the  designs  of  the  enemy  by  bravery,  or  dissipate  the 
fears  and  jealousies  of  his  allies  by  wisdom  ;  whether  to  control 
himself  amid  the  successes,  or  sustain  himself  amid  the  reverses,  of 
war,  his  soul  was  always  equal  to  the  occasion.  He  had  only  to 
change  virtues  when  fortune  changed  her  face ;  elated  without  pride, 
depressed  without  meanness,  almost  equally  admirable  when,  with 
judgment  and  boldness,  he  saved  the  remains  of  his  troops  beaten  at 
Mariandel,  as  when  he  himself  beat  the  Imperials  and  the  Bavarians  ; 
or  when,  with  triumphant  troops,  he  forced  all  Germany  to  ask  peace 
from  France.*         *****         ^ 

Let  us  follow  this  prince  in  his  last  campaigns,  during  which  so 
many  difficult  enterprises,  so  many  glorious  successes  are  to  be  re- 
garded as  proofs  of  his  courage,  and  rewards  of  his  piety.  To  com- 
mence his  marches  with  ^^rayer,  to  repress  impiety  and  blasphemy, 
to  protect  sacred  persons  and  property  against  the  insolence  and 
avarice  of  the  soldiers,  to  invoke  in  every  danger  the  God  of  armies, 
is  the  common  care  and  duty  of  all  generals.  But  he  goes  far  be- 
yond this.  Even  while  commanding  the  army,  he  regards  himself 
as  a  simple  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ.  He  sanctifies  wars  by  the  purity 
of  his  intentions,  by  the  desire  of  a  happy  peace,  and  by  the  laws  of 
Christian  discipline.  He  looks  upon  his  soldiers  as  his  brethren,  and 
believes  himself  under  obligation  to  exercise  Christian  charity  in  a 
cruel  profession,  wherein  general  humanity  itself  is  lost.  Animated 
by  these  lofty  motives,  he  surpasses  himself,  and  proves  that  cour- 
age becomes  firmer  when  sustained  by  the  principles  of  religion, 
that  there  is  a  pious  magnanimity  which  wins  success  in  spite  of 
dangers  and  obstacles,  and  that  a  warrior  is  invincible  when  he  com- 
bats with  faith,  and  stretches  forth  pure  hands  to  the  God  of  armies, 
who  protects  him. 

As  from  God  he  derives  all  his  glory,  so  to  him  he  returns  it  all, 
and  cherishes  no  other  confidence  than  what  is  founded  on  the 
Divine  approbation.  Here  let  us  set  before  you  one  of  those  critical 
occasions,f  when  he  attacks  with  a  small  number  of  trooj^s  the  en- 
tire forces  of  Germany !  He  marches  three  days,  crosses  three 
rivers,  meets  the  enemy,  and  gives  them  battle.  With  numbers  on 
*  The  Peace  of  Munster.  f  Battle  of  Entzeim. 


FUNERAL  ORATION  FOR  TURENNE.         75 

one  side,  and  valor  on  the  other,  fortune  is  long  doubtful.  At  last 
courage  fires  the  multitude ;  the  enemy  is  confused,  and  begins  to 
yield.  "  Victory  I"  shouts  a  voice.  At  once  the  General  checks  all 
emotion  which  gives  ardor  to  battle,  and  in  a  severe  tone  says: 
*'  Silence !  Our  fate  is  not  in  our  own  hands,  and  we  ourselves  will 
be  vanquished,  if  God  does  not  succor  us  !"  With  these  words,  he 
raises  his  hands  to  heaven,  "  whence  cometh  help,"  and  continuing 
to  give  his  orders,  he  waits  with  submission  between  hope  and  fear, 
for  the  execution  of  Heaven's  will. 

How  difiicult  it  is  to  be  at  once  victorious  and  humble !  Mil- 
itary success  leaves  in  the  mind  I  know  not  what  exquisite  pleasure, 
which  fills  and  absorbs  it.  In  such  circumstances  one  attributes  to 
himself  a  superiority  of  force  and  capacity.  He  crowns  himself 
with  his  own  hands ;  he  decrees  to  himself  a  secret  triumph  ;  he  re- 
gards as  his  own  the  laurels  which  he  gathers  with  infinite  toil,  and 
frequently  moistens  with  his  blood  ;  and  even  when  he  renders  to 
God  solemn  thanks,  and  hangs  in  his  temples  the  torn  and  blood- 
stained trophies  which  he  has  taken  from  the  enemy,  is  not  vanity 
liable  to  stifle  a  portion  of  his  gratitude,  and  mingle  with  the  vows 
which  he  pays  to  God,  applauses  which  he  thinks  due  to  himself ;  at 
least  does  he  not  retain  some  grains  of  the  incense  which  he  burns 
upon  his  altars? 

It  was  on  such  occasions  that  Marshal  Turenne,  renouncing  all 
pretensions,  returned  all  the  glory  to  Him  to  whom  it  legitimately 
belongs.  If.  he  marches,  he  acknowledges  that  it  is  God  who  pro- 
tects and  guides  him ;  if  he  defends  fortresses,  he  knows  that  he 
defends  them  in  vain  if  God  does  not  guard  them  ;  if  he  forms  an 
intrenchment,  he  feels  that  it  is  God  who  forms  a  rampart  around 
him  to  defend  him  from  every  attack  ;  if  he  fights,  he  knows  whence 
to  draw  all  his  force  ;  and  if  he  triumphs,  he  thinks  that  he  sees  an 
invisible  hand  crowning  him  from  heaven.  Eeferring  thus  all  the 
favors  he  receives  to  their  origin,  he  thence  derives  new  blessings. 
No  longer  does  he  fear  the  enemies  by  whom  he  is  surrounded; 
without  being  surprised  at  their  numbers  or  strength,  he  exclaims 
with  the  prophet :  "Some  trust  in  their  horses  and  chariots,  but  we 
will  trust  in  the  Almighty."  In  this  steadfast  and  just  confidence 
he  redoubles  his  ardor,  forms  great  designs,  executes  great  things, 
and  begins  a  campaign,  which  appears  as  if  it  must  prove  fatal  to  the 
empire. 

He  passes  the  Rhine,  and  eludes  the  vigilance  of  an  accomplished 
and  prudent  general.  He  observes  the  movements  of  the  enemy. 
He  raises  the  courage  of  the  allies ;  controls  the   suspicions  and 


76  ESPRIT    FLECHIER. 

vacillating  faitli  of  neigliboring  powers.  He  takes  away  from  tlie 
one  tlie  will,  from  the  other  the  means  of  injuring  him  ;  and  profit- 
ing by  all  those  important  conjunctures  which  prepare  the  way  for 
great  and  glorious  events,  he  leaves  to  fortune  nothing  which  human 
skill  and  counsel  can  take  from  him.  Already  has  a  panic  seized 
the  enemy.  Already  has  that  eagle  taken  its  flight  to  the  mountains, 
whose  bold  approach  alarmed  our  provinces.  Those  brazen  mouths, 
invented  by  the  bottomless  pit  for  the  destruction  of  men,  thunder 
on  all  sides,  to  favor  and  precipitate  the  retreat ;  and  France  in  sus- 
pense awaits  the  success  of  an  enterprise  which,  according  to  all  the 
rules  of  Avar,  must  be  infalhble. 

Alas !  we  knew  all  that  we  might  hope,  but  we  knew  not  all  that 
we  might  fear.  Divine  Providence  concealed  from  us  a  calamity 
greater  than  the  loss  of  a  battle.  It  was  to  cost  a  life  which  each  of 
lis  would  have  been  willing  to  redeem  with  his  own :  and  all  that 
we  could  gain  was  of  less  value  than  what  we  were  to  lose.  0  God ! 
terrible  but  just  in  Thy  counsels  toward  the  children  of  men. 
Thou  disposest  of  victors  and  victories  !  To  fulfill  Thy  pleasure,  and 
cause  us  to  fear  Thy  judgments.  Thy  power  casts  down  those  whom 
it  has  lifted  up.  Thou  sacrificest  to  Thy  Sovereign  Majesty  the 
noblest  victims,  and  strikest,  at  Thy  pleasure,  those  illustrious  heads 
which  Thou  hast  so  often  crowned ! 

Do  not  suppose,  messieurs,  that  I  am  going  to  open  here  a  tragic 
scene  ;  to  represent  that  great  man  stretched  upon  his  own  trophies ; 
to  uncover  that  body,  blood-stained  and  ghastly,  over  which  still  lin- 
gers the  smoke  of  the  thunder  which  struck  it ;  to  cause  his  blood, 
like  that  of  Abel's,  to  cry  from  the  ground,  or  expose  to  your  eyes 
the  mournful  images  of  your  country  and  religion  in  tears !  In 
slight  losses  we  may  thus  surprise  the  pity  of  our  auditors,  and  by 
studied  efforts  draw  from  their  eyes  a  few  forced  and  useless  tears. 
But  we  describe  without  art,  a  death  which  we  mourn  without  de- 
ceit. Every  one  finds  in  himself  the  source  of  his  grief,  and  re- 
opens his  own  wound ;  and  it  is  not  necessary  to  excite  the  imagi- 
nation in  order  to  affect  the  heart. 

Here  I  am  almost  forced  to  interrupt  my  discourse.  I  am 
troubled,  messieurs !  Turenne  dies !  All  is  confusion — fortune 
vacillates — victory  leaves  us — ^peace  takes  its  flight — the  good  in- 
tentions of  the  allies  relax — the  courage  of  the  troops  fails  with 
grief,  anon  burns  with  vengeance — the  whole  army  remain  motion- 
less. The  wounded  think  of  the  loss  which  they  have  suffered,  and 
not  of  the  wounds  which  they  have  received.  Dying  fathers  see 
their  sons  weeping  over  their  dead  General.     The  army,  in  mourn- 


FUNERAL  ORATION  FOR  TURENNE.         77 

ing,  is  engaged  in  rendering  him  funeral  honors,  and  fame,  which 
dehghts  to  spread  through  the  world  extraordinary  events,  goes  to 
make  known  through  Europe  the  glorious  history  of  the  Prince's 
life,  and  the  mournful  regrets  occasioned  by  his  death.* 

What  sighs,  what  lamentations  and  praises,  then  re-echo  through 
the  cities  and  the  country.  One,  looking  upon  his  growing  crops, 
blesses  the  memory  of  him  to  whom  he  owes  the  hope  of  his  harvest. 
Another,  who  enjoys  in  repose  the  heritage  which  he  received  from 
his  fathers,  prays  that  eternal  peace  may  be  his  who  saved  him  from 
the  horrors  and  cruelties  of  war.  Here  they  offer  the  adorable 
sacrifice  for  him  who  sacrificed  his  life  for  the  public  good.  There 
others  prepare  for  him  a  funeral  service,  where  they  expected  to  pre- 
J3are  a  triumph.  Each  selects  for  praise  that  point  in  his  glorious 
life  which  appears  the  most  illustrious.  All  unite  in  his  eulogy. 
With  mingled  sobs  and  tears,  they  admire  the  past,  regret  the  pres- 
ent, and  tremble  for  the  future.  Thus  the  whole  empire  mourns  the 
death  of  its  defender.  The  loss  of  a  single  man  is  felt  to  be  a  public 
calamity. 

Wherefore,  my  God,  if  I  may  presume  to  pour  out  my  heart  in 
Thy  presence,  and  speak  to  Thee,  who  am  but  dust  and  ashes,  where- 
fore did  we  lose  him  in  our  most  pressing  necessity,  in  the  midst  of 
his  greatest  achievements,  at  the  highest  point  of  his  valor,  and  in 
the  maturity  of  his  wisdom?  Was  it  that,  after  so  many  actions 
worthy  of  immortality,  he  had  nothing  further  of  a  mortal  nature 
to  perform  ?  Had  the  time  arrived  when  he  was  to  enjoy  the  re- 
ward of  so  many  virtues,  and  receive  from  Thee  the  crown  of 
righteousness  which  Thou  reservest  for  such  as  have  finished  a 
glorious  career?  Perhaps  we  placed  too  much  confidence  in  him, 
for  Thou  forbiddest  us  in  the  sacred  Scriptures  to  trust  in  an  arm  of 
flesh,  or  put  confidence  in  the  children  of  men.  Perhaps  it  was  a 
punishment  of  our  pride,  ambition,  and  injustice.  As  the  gross 
vapors  ascend  from  the  depths  of  the  valleys,  and  form  themselves 
into  thunder  which  falls  upon  the  mountains,  so  rises  from  the  hearts 
of  the  people  those  iniquities,  the  punishment  of  which  falls  upon 
the  heads  of  such  as  govern  and  defend  them.     I  presume  not,  O 

*  Turenne  died  July  27,  1675.  He  was  surveying,  from  an  eminence,  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  hostile  army,  when  he  was  struck  with  a  cannon-ball,  which  also  cut  off  the 
arm  of  an  officer  who  was  near  him.  The  son  of  that  officer  ran  to  his  father's  aid,  and 
shed  over  him  a  flood  of  tears.  "  It  is  not  for  me,  my  son,  that  you  ought  to  weep,"  said 
the  wounded  officer,  "  but  for  that  great  man  whom  France  has  lost."  He  was  honored 
with  a  magnificent  funeral  service,  and  buried  in  the  royal  tomb  at  St.  Denis.  Mascaron, 
Bishop  of  Tulle,  pronounced  his  funeral  oration.  That  by  Flechier  was  dehvered  five 
months  afterward,  on  the  occasion  of  a  grand  rehgious  ceremony. 


78  ESPRIT    FLEOHIER. 

Lord,  to  sound  the  depths  of  Thy  judgments,  nor  to  discover  the 
secret  and  inscrutable  causes  from  which  Thy  justice  or  Thy  mercy 
acts.  It  is  my  duty  and  desire  only  to  adore !  But  Thou  art  just, 
and  Thou  hast  afflicted  us.  And  in  an  age  so  corrupt  as  ours,  we 
need  not  seek  elsewhere  the  causes  of  our  calamities,  than  in  the 
disorder  of  our  manners. 

Let  us  then,  messieurs,  derive  from  our  sorrows  motives  for 
penitence,  and  seek  only  in  the  piety  of  that  great  man,  true  and 
substantial  consolation.  Citizens,  strangers,  enemies,  nations,  kings 
and  emperors,  mourn  and  revere  him.  Yet  what  can  all  this  con- 
tribute to  his  real  happiness  ?  His  king  even,  and  such  a  king ! 
honors  him  with  his  regrets  and  tears — a  noble  and  precious  mark 
of  affection  and  esteem  for  a  subject,  but  useless  to  a  Christian.  He 
shall  live,  I  acknowledge,  in  the  minds  and  memories  of  men,  but 
the  Scripture  teaches  us  that  the  thoughts  of  .man,  and  man  him- 
self, are  but  vanity.  A  magnificent  tomb  may  inclose  his  sad  re- 
mains ;  but  he  shall  rise  again  from  that  superb  monument,  not  to 
be  praised  for  his  heroic  exploits,  but  to  be  j  adged  according  to  his 
work,  whether  good  or  bad.  His  ashes  shall  mingle  with  those  of 
the  numerous  kings  who  governed  the  kingdom  which  he  so  gen- 
erously defended ;  but,  after  all,  v/hat  remains  under  those  precious 
marbles,  either  to  him  or  to  them,  of  human  applause,  the  pomp  of 
courts,  or  the  splendor  of  fortune,  but  an  eternal  silence,  a  frightful 
solitude,  and  a  terrible  expectation  c^  the  judgment  of  God?  Let 
the  world,  then,  honor  as  it  will  the  glory  of  man,  God  only  is  the 
recompense  of  faithful  Christians, 

O  death,  too  sudden !  nevertheless,  through  the  mercy  of  God, 
long  anticipated,  of  how  many  edifying  words,  and  holy  examples 
hast  thou  deprived  us  ?  We  might  have  seen  him,  sublime  specta- 
cle !  a  Christian,  dying  humbly  in  the  midst  of  triumphs  and  victo- 
ries. With  what  profound  sincerity  w^ould  he  have  mourned  his^ 
past  errors,  abasing  himself  before  the  majesty  of  God,  and  implor- 
ing the  succor  of  His  arm,  not  against  visible  enemies,  but  against 
the  enemies  of  his  salvation !  His  living  faith  and  fervent  charity, 
doubtless,  would  have  deeply  affected  our  hearts;  and  he  might 
have  remained  to  us  a  model  of  confidence  without  presumption, 
of  fear  without  feebleness,  of  penitence  without  artifice,  of  constancy 
without  affectation,  and  of  a  death,  precious  in  the  sight  both  of  God 
and  of  man. 

Are  not  these  conjectures  just?  They  were  involved  in  his 
character.  They  were  his  cherished  designs.  He  had  resolved  to 
live  in  a  manner  so  holy  that  it  is  presumed  he  would  have  died  in 


PUNERAL    ORATION    FOR    TURENNE.  79 

the  same  way.  Eeadj  to  cast  all  liis  crowns  at  tlic  feet  of  Jesus 
Christ,  like  the  conquerors  in  the  Apocalypse,  ready  to  gather  to- 
gether all  his  honors,  and  dispossess  himself  of  them,  by  a  voluntary 
renunciation,  he  no  longer  belonged  to  the  world,  though  Providence 
retained  him  in  it.  In  the  tumult  of  armies,  he  solaced  himself  with 
the  sweet  and  secret  aspirations  of  solitude.  With  one  hand  he 
smote  the  Amalekites,  and  with  the  other,  stretched  out  to  heaven, 
he  drew  down  the  blessing  of  God.  This  Joshua,  in  battle,  already 
performed  the  functions  of  Moses  upon  the  Mount,  and  "under  the 
arms  of  a  warrior  bore  the  heart  and  will  of  a  penitent. 

O  God !  who  piercest  the  profoundest  depths  of  our  conscience, 
and  seest  the  most  secret  intentions  of  our  hearts,  even  before  they 
are  formed,  receive  into  the  bosom  of  Thy  glory  that  soul,  ever  oc- 
cupied with  thoughts  of  Thine  eternity  !  Honor  those  desires  which 
Thou  Thyself  didst  inspire.  Time  failed  him,  but  not  the  courage 
to  fulfill  them.  If  Thou  requirest  works  with  desires,  behold  the 
charities  which  he  made  or  destined  for  the  comfort  and  salvation  of 
his  brethren ;  behold  the  souls  which,  with  Thine  aid,  he  brought 
back  from  error ;  behold  the  blood  of  Thy  people  which  he  so  fre- 
quently spared ;  behold  his  own  blood  which  he  so  generously  shed 
on  our  behalf;  and  yet  more  than  all,  behold  the  blood  shed  for  him 
by  Jesus  Christ. 

Ministers  of  God,  complete  the  holy  sacrifice !  Christians  re- 
double your  vows  and  prayers,  that  God,  as  a  recompense  of  his 
toils,  may  admit  his  spirit  to  the  home  of  everlasting  repose,  and  give 
Mm  an  infinite  peace  in  heaven,  who  three  times  procured  for  us  a 
peace  on  earth,  evanescent  it  is  true,  yet  ever  delightful,  ever  de- 
sirable I 


DISCOURSE    FORTY-NINTH. 

CHARLES    DE    LA    RUE. 

La  Rue  was  a  native  of  Paris,  where  lie  was  born  in  the  year  1G43, 
and  where  he  also  died,  aged  82.  He  was  early  distinguished  among 
the  Jesuits  as  a  Professor  of  Belles-lettres  and  Rhetoric,  and  also  for  his 
poetical  powers.  A  Latin  poem  of  his  was  translated  into  the  French 
by  the  distinguished  Corneille.  As  a  preacher,  he  was  celebrated  ni  the 
court  and  the  capital.  The  editors  of  the  "  Bibliotheque  Portative"  speak 
of  him  in  terms  of  the  highest  praise.  Gisbert,  ia  his  "  Christian  Elo- 
quence," describes  La  Rue,  probably  with  somewhat  of  extravagance,  as 
"  a  model  of  sublime,  tender,  and  pathetic  eloquence ;  m  whom  is  united 
the  Hvehest,  the  most  intelUgent,  the  richest,  and  the  boldest  imagina- 
tion, a  most  exalted  genius,  and  an  astonishuig  facility  of  conception 
and  expression."  La  Rue's  works  are  exceedingly  rare.  They  are 
contamed  m  three  volumes,  12mo.  His  most  celebrated  sermons  are 
the  "  Dying  Sinner"  and  the  "  Sinner  after  Death." 


THE    DYING    SINNER. 


PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  KIXG. 


"  When  Jesus  came  nigh  to  the  gate  of  the  city,  behold,  there  was  a  dead  man  car- 
ried out,  the  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow." — Luke,  vii.  12. 

Sire — To  be  young  and  powerful,  to  be  important  and  necessary, 
are  vain  obstacles  to  death.  This  dead  man  of  our  Gospel  was  in  the 
flower  of  his  age.  He  was  dear  and  precious  to  a  mother  who  had 
no  other  support.  He  was  of  sufficient  rank  to  draw  all  the  city  to 
his  splendid  funeral  procession.  Yet  he  dies  ;  and  the  sight  of  this 
death  must  render  the  idea  of  it  more  terrible  to  those  attached  to 
life  by  all  these  glittering  bonds.  But  what  can  induce  those 
to  love  it  who  have   no  such  attractions  ?     The  only  means  of 


THE    DYINTt    SINNER.  31 

rendering  deatli  less  terrible,  is  to  make  it  a  custom  and  a  duty  to 
think  upon  it. 

Melancholy  duty  to  tliink  upon  death ;  and,  above  all,  when  we 
are  young  !  But  because  we  are  young,  are  we  on  that  account  to 
deem  ourselves  tlie  less  mortal  ?  You  are  young  and  mortal ;  you 
are  a  sinner  and  mortal.  And  can  a  mortal,  who  feels  liimself  a 
sinner,  harden  himself  against  the  thought  of  death,  whether  he  be 
young  or  old  ?  especially  as  it  does  not  depend  upon  him  to  pre- 
vent death  in  his  youth ;  but  rather  to  see  that  he  die  not  in  his 
sin.  What  blindness,  then,  and  what  obduracy,  to  turn  all  our 
thoughts  to  our  preservation  from  death,  which  will  come  in  spite 
of  us,  and  must  be  either  happy  or  miserable ;  instead  of  rather 
striving  to  render  that  death  happy  by  immediately  departing  from 
sin ! 

I  do  not  then  mean  to-day  simply  to  discourse  on  death,  but  on 
death  in  sin  ;  by  describing  to  you  the  image  of  false  conversion 
in  a  dying  sinner,  in  contrast  with  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  man 
in  our  Gospel. 

You  see  two  things  concur  to  eifect  the  resurrection  of  the  dead 
man  :  the  tender  pity  of  the  Saviour,  and  the  prompt  obedience  of 
death.  On  the  contrary,  a  dying  sinner,  under  the  hope  of  compas- 
sion from  his  God,  and  under  the  presumption  of  his  own  obedience, 
dares  to  defer  his  conversion  till  his  last  moment.  Then  will  God 
v/ait  to  regard  him  with  pity  ?  No.  Will  even  the  dying  sinner  be 
ready  to  render  Him  obedience  ?  No.  Two  terrible  truths  which  it  is 
too  late  to  preach  to  the  dying — what  can  they  make  of  them  ?  We 
must  preach  them  to  the  living,  full  of  confidence  in  their  health,  in 
their  strength,  in  their  youth.  They  will  discover  the  end  of  them. 
And  with  this  end  in  view,  dear  hearers,  what  will  be  the  disposi- 
tion of  God  toward  the  sinner  ?  You  will  see  it  in  the  first  part. 
What  will  be  the  disposition  of  the  sinner  himself  toward  God  ? 
You  will  see  it  in  the  second. 

First  Part. — Whether  or  not  God  may  be  disposed  to  bestow 
the  grace  of  repentance  upon  the  dying  sinner,  is  a  point  too  deli- 
cate to  decide  ;  for,  in  fact,  God  is  the  Master  of  His  grace  ;  He  can 
dispose  of  it  as  He  pleases  ;  He  sometimes  gives  it  to  the  most  un- 
worthy. Besides,  we  do  not  know  what  passes  between  God  and 
the  dying  man  ;  we  do  not  know  how  far  His  mercy  extends  ;  nor 
the  compassion  which  He  exercises  toward  the  frailty  of  the  human 
heart.  What  we  at  once  condemn,  perliaps  God  excuses.  This  is  all. 
that  we  can  say  in  favor  of  the  dying  sinner.    But,  on  the  other  hand^ 

6 


82  CHARLES    DE    LA    RUE. 

I  see  tbe  Churcli,  the  expositor  of  Jesus  Christ,  deploring  this  sort 
of  penitence  ;  regarding  it  as  an  insult  offered  to  God  ;  doubting  its 
efficacy,  and  anxiously  turning  away  her  children  from  it.  All  the 
holy  Fathers,  expressing  themselves  by  the  voice  of  St.  Augustin, 
declare  that  in  receiving  the  sinner  to  this  sort  of  penitence,  they 
can  not  give  him  the  assurance  of  his  salvation.  To  relieve  the 
sinner  from  this  fear,  and  to  give  him  that  assurance  which  the 
Church  and  the  Fathers  feel  themselves  incapable  of  giving,  some 
superior  authority  is  requisite  :  we  must  have  nothing  less  than  the 
authority  of  God.  Let  us  then  see  what  God  has  said,  and  what  He 
has  done  in  this  matter.  We  have  only  these  two  means  of  knowing 
the  truth. 

What  seems  most  to  the  point  is  that  marvelous  inclination  to 
pardon  which  appears  throughout  the  sacred  books ;  and  particularly 
the  promise  which  God  makes  by  the  prophet  Ezekiel :  "  As  for  the 
wickedness  of  the  wicked,  he  shall  not  fall  thereby  in  the  day  that 
he  turneth  from  his  wickedness."  Nothing  is  apparently  more 
favorable  to  the  pretensions  of  the  obstinate  sinner.  I  say  appar- 
ently, sirs,  for  let  us  diily  examine  the  sense  of  these  words.  God 
promises  to  the  sinner  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins  whenever  he  turns 
from  his  wickedness ;  but,  does  He  promise  to  the  sinner  the  grace 
of  conversion  at  any  time  when  he  may  think  of  turning  from  his 
evil  ways?  These  are  two  very  different  things.  You  shall  be 
pardoned  when  you  are  converted  ;  this  is  what  God  has  promised. 
You  shall  have  grace  sufficiently  strong  to  convert  yourself  when- 
ever you  wish  it ;  this  is  what  God  has  not  promised,  and  least  of 
all  to  the  sinner  who  abuses  divine  mercy  even  till  his  dying  hour. 
For,  although  mercy  still  accompanies  him  till  that  period  ;  although 
it  does  not  abandon  him  while  he  is  living  upon  earth  ;  although  he 
may  yet  have  at  least  the  ability  to  pray,  which  is  the  last  resource 
and  the  last  link  of  connection  between  the  sinner  and  his  God ;  yet 
this  feeble  link,  which  with  time,  and  during  life,  might  have  become 
strong  by  the  habitude  of  the  sinner,  and  have  led  him  by  degrees 
to  the  end  of  his  salvation,  becomes  useless  on  the  bed  of  death,  by 
the  terror  of  surprise,  and  by  the  flight  of  time. 

It  then  requires  an  energy  more  powerful  and  prompt  to  effect 
his  conversion  than  even  during  the  former  course  of  his  life.  Then 
so  far  from  God  having  promised  to  give  the  dying  sinner  this  pow- 
erful grace.  He  has  positively  threatened  not  to  give  it  him. 

See  the  first  chapter  of  Proverbs  :  "  Because  I  have  called,  and 
ye  refused ;"  I  have  invited,  and  you  have  not  come.  "  I  have 
stretched  out  My  hand,  and  no  man  regarded ;"  you  have  turned 


THE    DYING    SINNER.  83 

away  your  eyes,  "  I  also  will  laugh  at  your  calamity,  I  will  mock 
wlien  your  fear  cometli ;"  I,  in  My  turn,  will  laugli  at  your  death,  I 
will  return  contempt  for  contempt,  and  mockery  for  mockery. 
"  Then  shall  they  call  upon  Me,  but  I  will  not  answer  ;"  You  shall 
cry  then,  you  shall  call  Me  to  your  aid,  but  I  will  not  hear.  And, 
in  the  New  Testament :  "  I  go  my  way,"  after  having  dwelt  so  long 
with  so  little  fruit  among  you ;  "  and  ye  shall  seek  Me,"  when  I 
shall  be  far  from  your  sight;  "  and  ye  shall  die  in  your  sins ;"  in 
spite  of  your  inquiries,  ye  shall  die  in  your  sins. 

Here  then,  sinners,  collect  all  the  force  of  your  reasoning.  If  it 
is  true  that  God  bestows  the  grace  of  conversion  at  death,  often 
enough  to  support  you  in  this  hope  ;  why,  in  all  the  sacred  books, 
has  God  taken  away  this  hope  from  you  ?  Why  has  He  never  said 
to  you  that  He  might  be  disposed  to  give  it  you  ?  Why  has  He 
said,  on  the  contrary,  "  I  will  laugh  ;"  "  I  will  mock;"  "  I  will  not 
hear  ;"  "ye  shall  die  in  your  sins  ?"  I  hear  nothing  here  of  mercy 
or  grace. 

Then,  from  what  He  has  said,  judge  of  His  disposition  toward 
the  obstinate  sinner. 

I  go  yet  further  :  judge  of  it  from  what  He  has  done.  If  it  is 
true  that  this  grace  has  ever  been  promised,  it  is  probable  that  while 
there  have  been  sinners,  and  dying  sinners,  God,  to  support  His 
promise,  would  have  given  us  some  public  example  of  a  hardened 
sinner  crowned  with  grace  on  the  bed  of  death.  Produce  me,  then, 
one  solitary  instance.  St.  Bernard  finds  but  one ;  that  of  the  thief 
upon  the  cross.  I  confess  that  this  is  a  very  great  sinner  ;  but  is  he 
a  hardened  sinner  ?  This  moment  is  the  last  of  his  life ;  but,  says 
Eusebius,  it  is  the  first  of  his  calling.  You  blame  the  tardiness  of 
his  conversion.  1,  says  St.  Ambrose,  admire  the  promptitude  of  it. 
Had  this  thief  ever  seen  the  Son  of  God  preaching  repentance,  prov- 
ing His  divinity,  multiplying  the  loaves,  and  raising  the  dead?  The 
eyes  of  all  Judea  were  filled  with  the  wonders  of  the  Saviour ;  yet 
all  Judea  being  hardened,  had  rejected  His  grace  and  fastened  the 
Saviour  to  the  cross.  This  thief,  says  St.  Augustin,  on  discovering 
the  first  beam  of  His  grace,  recognizes  Him  as  his  King,  and  adores 
Him  as  his  God,  even  upon  the  cross,  in  the  midst  of  outrages  and 
contempt.  And  behold,  my  dear  hearers,  the  ground  which  you 
take,  the  model  which  you  choose  to  authorize  your  presumption ! 
You  who,  knowing  the  divinity  of  the  Saviour,  have  for  so  many 
years  resisted  the  convictions  of  His  grace,  which  urge  you  to  re- 
pent ;  do  you  not,  on  the  contrary,  find  the  condemnation  of  your 
own  obstinate  malice  in  the  docility  of  this  thief,  and  in  his  prompt 


34  CHARLESDELARUE. 

obedience  ?     Where  then  will  jou  find  examples  whicli  flatter  you, 
if  this  example,  which  is  so  public,  is  a  decree  against  you  ? 

You  point  to  sinners  yet  more  criminal  than  yourselves,  whose 
edifying  deaths  have  made  them  the  envy  of  the  best  of  men  ;  sin- 
ners Avho,  after  spending  a  libertine  life,  have  died,  say  yon,  true 
Christians,  and  true  saints.  What,  says  St.  Gregory  of  Nazianzen, 
does  it  cost  so  little  to  be  a  saint  ?  Only  a  day,  only  a  moment  is 
necessary  according  to  us ;  it  is  only  to  will  it.  Know  that  these 
people,  whatever  tears  they  may  have  shed,  have  not  died  true 
Christians.  A  true  Christian  does  not  defer  his  penitence  till  death. 
A  true  Christian  does  not  wait  for  the  day  of  his  death  to  show  that 
he  is  a  true  Christian.  Every  day,  and  every  moment  of  his  life, 
he  is  preparing  for  death.  And,  where  is  the  man,  if  he  is  not 
wholly  in  desj)air,  who  on  his  dying  bed,  in  the  possession  of  his 
senses,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  friends,  does  not  at  least  make  some 
effort  to  support  the  appearance  of  a  Christian.  It  is  rare  to  find 
railleries  and  blasphemies  carried  there :  he  has  not  then  the  hardi- 
hood to  do  it.  One  begins  to  preach  ;  another  sets  all  the  churches 
to  pray  for  his  salvation,  or  at  least  for  his  health  ;  another  will  only 
die  in  the  arms  of  the  greatest  servants  of  God.  Some  cover  their 
dying  bodies  with  the  sackcloth  of  repentance.  All  confess,  and 
communicate  with  the  aspirations  of  piety  on  their  lips. 

If  nothing  more  were  necessary  to  die  the  death  of  the  righteous, 
all  sinners  on  their  dying  beds  would  be  saints.  All  those  who  say  to 
God,  Lord,  Lord,  would  enter  into  His  kingdom  ;  which  is  contrary  to 
the  word  of  God.  All  those  who  have  mocked  at  God,  would  not 
in  their  turn  be  mocked  by  God ;  which  is  also  opposed  to  His  word. 
All  those  who  seek  after  God,  after  having  fled  from  Him,  would 
find  Him  at  every  moment  and  ever}'  hour,  and  would  not  die  in 
their  sin ;  which  is  likewise  against  His  word.  If,  then,  what  God 
has  said  is  true,  tlie  greater  part  of  such  kinds  of  repentance  must 
be  false,  in  spite  of  all  the  aj^pearances  which  they  have  of  truth — 
appearances  which  God  permits  for  ends  which  are  unknown  to  us ; 
appearances  which  even  the  devil  supports  to  draw  other  sinners 
into  the  snare,  and  to  persuade  them  more  powerfully  that  it  is 
easy  to  die  in  a  state  of  grace,  after  having  lived  in  sin.  Well  then, 
my  dear  hearers,  you  have  not  any  certain  example  to  sustain  your  pre- 
sumption. But  I — I  have  a  hundred  to  confound  it:  an  Antiochus, 
an  Esau ;  a  crowd  of  frightful  instances  in  Scripture  and  in  history. 

This  being  established,  I  draw  from  it  three  conclusions  of  great 
importance,  if  they  may  terminate  in  the  salvation  of  those  who 
hear  me. 


THE    DYING    SINNER.  35 

1.  The  first  is,  that  no  man  living  can  promise  himself  the  grace  of 
repentance  at  death,  without  an  extreme  temerity.  The  second,  that 
the  great  and  the  rich,  above  all,  are  those  who  ought  to  flatter  them- 
selves the  least.  The  third,  that  in  all  conditions  those  who  have  re- 
ceived from  God  the  favor  of  a  long  life,  have  yet  less  reason  to  expect 
this  favor  at  death.  Lose  nothing,  sirs,  of  these  three  truths  which 
are  so  weighty  and  so  pressing.     You  are  all  concerned  in  them. 

I  do  not  say  that  the  dying  sinner  has  nothing  left  to  afford  en- 
couragement. Our  Lord  has  expressly  granted  grace  to  the  thief, 
to  show  us  the  extent  of  His  power,  and  to  support  our  hope.  But 
lie  has  granted  this  grace  to  the  thief  alone.  It  does  not  appear  that 
He  has  bestowed  it  upon  any  other,  which  shows  that  the  fear  of 
danger  ought  to  check  our  presumption  and  that  what  He  has  done 
once  only  in  moments  so  touching  as  those  of  death,  is  but  a  pure 
miracle  of  His  goodness. 

To  defer  repentance,  and  to  defer  it  even  till  death,  is  then  to 
hazard  salvation  on  the  hope  of  a  miracle.  But,  is  this  a  conduct 
pardonable  even  in  one  of  a  common  understanding,  to  make  so  rare 
a  miracle  the  foundation  of  the  most  important  and  the  most  diffi- 
cult of  His  affairs,  which  is  that  of  His  salvation  ?  Would  you 
make  it  the  foundation  of  your  health  and  life  ?  For,  only  consult 
the  Scripture,  and  it  will  appear  that  God  has  raised  more  from  the 
dead  than  He  has  converted  when  dying.  Would  you,  on  this  ac- 
count, dare  to  risk  your  life  and  to  expose  yourself  to  death  under 
the  idea  of  a  miraculous  resurrection  ?  And  how  then  dare  you  to 
risk  your  salvation  on  the  supposition  of  a  miraculous  conversion? 

"God  can,"  say  you,  "convert  me  at  death,  as  easily  as  during  life  I" 
Is  it  then  upon  what  God  can  do,  that  you  rest  your  hope  ?  And  does 
God  indeed  do  all  that  He  can  ?  He  can  on  account  of  the  first  sin 
damn  you  as  justly  as  He  has  damned  the  rebel  angels ;  yet  He  does 
it  not.  He  does  not,  then,  all  that  He  can :  and  since  you  do  not 
fear  all  the  injury  which  you  may  oifer  to  His  justice — how  can 
you  promise  yourself  all  the  good  which  His  bounty  can  bestow 
upon  you  Is  it  not  an  effort  of  goodness  and  mercy  sufficiently 
great  that  He  resolves  to  pardon  you  seven  times,  and  seventy  times 
seven?  that  He  calls  you  to  repentance  every  day  of  your  life? 
that  He  shows  you  the  rapidity  of  time?  that  He  cautions  you 
against  the  danger  of  surprise  ?  Does  all  this  serve  only  to  harden 
you  in  sin?  to  confirm  you  in  the  sad  design  of  pushing  His  j)a- 
tience  as  far  as  it  will  go ;  and  not  rather  to  humble  you  before  Him 
until  the  moment  when  you  shall  see  your  inevitable  ruin  a2:)proach- 
ing,  and  His  arm  uplifted  against  you  to  strike  the  last  blow  ? — At 


86  CHARLESDELARUE. 

deatb,  you  say,  when  He  shall  urge  us  by  His  grace — at  death,  we 
will  think  upon  it — at  death,  we  have  other  affairs  now — at  death, 
that  will  be  the  proper  time  to  think  upon  God ;  now  is  the  time  to 
enjoy  life.  In  this  manner  life  passes  away.  But  death  is  before 
your  eyes,  and  what  can  you  expect?  what  but  that  God  will  refuse 
to  you  at  death,  what  you  have  refused  during  life — that  He  will 
make  yon  feel  that  life  was  the  time  of  grace,  and  not  the  time  of 
pleasure  ?  It  is,  thenj  an  extreme  temerity  for  any  man  living,  to 
cherish  the  least  hope  of  obtaining  the  grace  of  repentance  in  his 
last  days — a  temerity  yet  more  criminal  in  the  rich  and  the  great. 
This  is  a  second  reflection. 

2.  Is  it  not  enough  for  these  to  have  had  as  their  share  the  enjoy- 
ments of  the  earth?  to  have  seen  pleasure  and  joy  flow  on  all  sides 
answerably  to  their  desires  ?  to  have  united  to  the  indulgences  which 
spring  from  fortune,  all  those  which  crime  and  passion  can  give  ? 
If,  after  a  long  course  of  years,  passed  away  with  impunity  in  this 
tranquillity,  they  could,  by  a  single  sigh,  by  the  repentance  of  a  mo- 
ment, open  to  themselves  the  gates  of  heaven,  and  pass  from  the 
felicities  of  time  to  those  of  eteruit}^,  where  would  be  the  justice 
and  j^rovidence  of  God  ?  Who,  among  the  prosperous  and  great  of 
the  world,  would  not  abandon  himself  to  his  passions,  on  condition 
of  spending  the  last  hour  of  his  life  in  sorrow,  and  buying  an  eter- 
nity of  pleasures  with  a  few  forced  tears?  It  is  justice  and  provi- 
dence in  God,  that  the  tears  shed  at  death  should  be  useless  tears,  in 
order  that  men  in  general,  and  the  great  in  particular,  might  learn 
to  weep  over  their  guilt,  and  to  seek  their  salvation  before  death. 
For  this  cause  the  wise  man  cries  to  all  those  who  have  power  and 
authority,  that  they  must  expect  nothing  else  but  a  j  udgment  prompt 
and  terrible.  A  judgment  prompt  by  its  surprises,  and  terrible  by 
its  rigor ;  prompt  without  admitting  any  leisure  to  contemplate  it ; 
and  terrible  without  the  hope  of  mitigation. 

And,  Christian  hearers,  in  the  only  example  which  we  have  of 
Divine  clemency  toward  a  dying  sinner — in  that  solitary  instance  of  the 
goodness  of  God  in  such  a  situation,  upon  whom  has  it  fallen  ?  Upon 
a  miserable  wretch,  unknown  by  name,  known  only  by  his  crimes, 
and  by  the  honor  which  he  enjoyed  of  being  crucified  by  the  side 
of  Jesus  Christ.  All  the  examples,  on  the  contrary,  of  the  insen- 
sibility of  God  to  the  repentance  of  the  dying,  are  taken  from 
the  most  exalted  characters,  the  most  illustrious  sinners.  It  is  thus 
he  has  made  it  conspicuous.  That  Esau,  who  implored  with  tears 
to  be  received  as  a  penitent,  and  who  was  not  received,  was  the 
father  and  the  head  of  an  entire  nation.     That  Antiochus,  whose 


THE    DYING    SINNER. 


87 


vaiu  repentance  lias  so  often  sounded  in  your  ears,  was  the  mas- 
ter of  Asia,  and  tile  terror  of  all  the  East.  "Was  it  not  of  the 
greatest  importance  to  the  glory  of  the  Lord  to  accept  the  submis- 
sion of  the  greatest  king  who  then  existed ;  to  see  him  magnificently 
repair  the  ravages  which  he  had  made  in  Jerusalem,  establish  the 
law  of  the  true  God  throughout  all  his  empire,  and  embrace  it  him- 
self? What  progress  would  not  such  a  change  seem  to  promise  to 
religion?  But  to  all  this  God  appears  to  shut  His  eyes.  He  finds 
it  a  greater  glory  and  a  more  important  interest  to  undeceive  the 
great  respecting  this  false  opinion  :  to  show  them  that  as  He  distin- 
guishes them  from  others  in  the  distribution  of  His  favors,  so  if  He 
honor  them  with  forgiveness,  they  must  from  this  time  abase  them- 
selves to  implore  His  pardon.  He  reproves  the  great,  however  pen- 
itent they  appear,  and  lavishes  the  grace  of  repentance,  so  to  speak, 
upon  the  head  of  a  wretched  brigand :  because  he  sees  more  malig- 
nity, ingratitude,  and  presumption  in  the  sins  of  the  great  than  in 
the  sins  of  the  poor  ;  a  more  voluntary  inclination  for  all  forbidden 
pleasures  in  the  midst  of  all  lawful  enjoyments ;  a  freedom  from 
that  want  that  hurries  into  vice,  that  necessity  which  presses  on  to 
it — and  in  the  stead  a  continual  abundance  of  all  sorts  of  good, 
which  aggravates  their  guilt — theirs,  therefore,  is  the  malignity  of 
sin  in  all  its  extent.  If  there  is,  then,  any  favor  to  be  hoped  for  by 
the  sinner  at  death,  it  is  less  to  be  expected  by  the  great  than  by  the 
rest  of  the  world. 

8,  And  yet  less  still  is  mercy  to  be  expected  by  those  who  have 
lived  a  long  time  in  the  world.  This  is  my  last  reflection.  I  dare 
assert,  sirs,  that  one  of  the  most  singular  favors  which  God  can  con- 
fer upon  men,  not  only  with  respect  to  their  desires,  but  with  respect 
to  their  salvation,  is  to  give  them  a  long  life^  which  conducts  them 
beyond  the  dangers  of  youth,  and  which  affords  them  leisure  to 
lament  their  disorders,  and  to  correct  their  errors.  For,  to  whatever 
excess  we  may  be  abandoned  in  the  blindness  of  youth,  how  can  it 
be  otherwise  but  that  in  a  course  of  years  we  must  be  awakened  by 
some  disgrace,  alarmed  by  some  sorrowful  accident,  disgusted  at  last 
with  the  world  from  the  usage  of  the  world  itself,  and  convinced  of 
the  necessity  of  communion  with  God  ?  All  these  gifts  of  God  are 
included  in  this  gift  of  old  age ;  in  that  age  which  we  have  always 
feared,  and  which  we  have  always  hoped.  To  abuse  this  gift  by 
attachment  to  the  world,  to  pleasure,  and  to  sin,  is  then  to  irritate 
God  in  the  most  sensible  manner,  and  to  shut  the  treasury  of  His 
goodness  against  us  forever.  Every  day  God  is  prolonging  your 
life,  but  you  shorten  not  the  chain  of  your  sins.     Your  lengthened 


88  CHARLESDELARUE. 

years  are  so  many  useless  benedictions.  Eegard  them,  saj^s  St.  Greg- 
ory, as  so  many  maledictions,  as  so  many  signs  and  presages  of 
your  reprobation. 

Why  lias  the  salvation  of  Solomon  been  held  in  doubt  during  so 
many  ages  ?  Is  it  not  because  of  the  abuse  of  his  last  years  ?  His 
heart,  upright  till  then,  was  corrupted  in  his  old  age :  and  his  cor- 
rupted old  age  effaced  all  his  past  virtues.  God  no  longer  took 
pleasure  in  his  wisdom,  nor  in  his  zeal  for  the  glory  of  His  name. 
If  He  showed  him  mercy  at  last,  He  has  thought  fit  to  leave  us  igno- 
rant of  it,  to  prevent  the  hardened  sinner  from  availing  himself  of 
this  example,  and  to  teach  us  the  hopelessness  of  old  age.  which  is 
voluptuous  and  full  of  sin. 

What,  then,  can  they  hope  for,  ^vho,  differing  from  Solomon  in  the 
employment  of  their  youth,  also  imitate  the  excesses  and  shame  of 
his  last  days?  For  more  than  forty  years  this  king  had  been  the 
example  of  the  world,  and  the  object  of  Divine  approbation:  yet  all 
this  has  not  prevented  his  salvation  from  being  left  in  doubt.  And, 
you  sinners,  who  can  scarcely  remember  that  you  have  ever  been 
righteous,  who  surpass  j^our  former  irregularities  every  day,  who  are 
never  weary  of  life  but  on  account  of  the  difficulty  of  finding  new 
pleasures,  upon  what  can  you  repose  your  confidence  at  death  ?  To 
what  can  you  impute  your  perseverance  in  evil  ?  Have  you  wanted 
leisure  to  reflect  upon  your  conduct,  or  light  to  see  its  errors,  or 
examples  to  instruct  you  at  the  peril  and  expense  of  others  ?  A 
thousand  revolutions  which  have  happened  before  your  eyes,  since 
you  have  been  in  the  world,  ought  to  have  convinced  you  that  none 
can  escape  from  the  arm  of  God.  You  have  escaped  from  it  during 
life,  and  you  think  yet  to  escape  from  it  at  death.  No,  your  obdu- 
racy has  no  excuse :  it  will  have  no  pardon ! 

What  injustice  does  God  do  to  you?  No  pardon?  But  why  ? 
Because  there  is  no  end  to  your  sins !  You  have  been  filling  up  the 
measure  of  them  all  your  days,  and  now,  ready  to  quit  life,  you 
gToan  at  its  rapidity  !  You  would  fain  be  immortal,  that  you  might 
render  your  libertinism  immortal !  And  can  you  expect  a  happy 
immortality  to  be  opened  to  you  at  death,  you  who  would  have 
placed  your  happiness  in  the  immortality  of  your  sin  ?  No,  it  is  to 
you  that  these  words  of  the  prophet  Isaiah  are  properly  addressed : 
"  I  have  long  time  holden  My  peace,  I  have  been  still  and  refrained 
Myself,"  I  have  waited  for  you  patiently,  I  am  wearied.  To  you 
belongs  what  follows,  "  now  will  I  cry  like  a  travailing  woman,  I 
will  destroy  and  devour  at  once."  I  will  at  length  speak :  but  at 
the  same  time  I  will  overwhelm  you,  I  will  destroy  you.     There 


THE    DYING    SINNER.  39 

shall  be  no  interval  between  your  course  of  life  and  your  entire 
destruction..  "But  if  at  death,"  you  say,  "  I  seek  on  my  part  sin- 
cerely to  obtain  mercy,  will  God  refuse  it  to  me?"  No  :  but  what  I 
wish  to  show  you  is,  that  at  death  3^ou  will  never  be  disposed  to 
seek  mercy  in  a  proper  way.  You  have  seen  the  disposition  of  God 
toward  the  dying  sinner,  now  behold  the  disposition  of  the  dying 
sinner  toward  God. 

Second  Part. — Let  us  approach  the  bed  of  this  sinner,  who  is 
so  bold  that  he  encourages  the  hope  of  life  even  at  the  very  gate  of 
death,  and  yet  so  timid  respecting  his  health,  that  he  dare  not  so 
much  as  think  upon  God,  lest  he  should  impair  it  by  some  gloomy 
thought.  But  the  liour  arrives  in  w^hich  some  faithful  friend,  wearied 
with  complaisance  and  flattery,  comes  to  him  to  say  as  the  prophet 
to  the  ancient  King  of  Judah — "  Set  thine  house  in  order."  Think 
on  thyself;  it  is  high  time  for  it.  Generally  this  is  not  without 
some  circumlocution,  nor  without  address.  0  how  much  caution  is 
there  to  make  a  mortal  understand  that  he  must  die !  But  now  it  is 
over !  There  is  no  more  hope !  A  minister  must  be  sent  for.  The 
sick  man  is  pressed,  and  conjured ;  at  length  he  is  convinced  of  the 
fact.  Then,  seeking  for  some  remains  of  firmness  at  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  merely  to  support  appearances,  he  abandons  himself  within 
to  the  confusion  of  his  thoughts.  Ah !  what  darkness  of  mind ! 
what  trouble  of  heart !  Let  us  enter  into  both ;  into  his  mind  and 
into  his  heart :  and  let  us  see  what  are  their  disposition  toward  God. 

There  are  two  sorts  of  light  in  the  mind  which  tend  to  promote 
one's  conversion — reason  and  faith.  Eeason,  by  awakening  in  him 
some  natural  motives,  such  as  hatred  and  horror  for  his  guilt :  faith, 
by  pressing  him  from  supernatural  motives. 

But  where  is  reason  in  the  obstinate  sinner  ?  What  has  it  done  for 
him  dui'ing  the  whole  course  of  his  life?  What  power  has  it  had 
over  him  ?  Passion  has  always  borne  him  away  against  the  convic- 
tions of  reason.  Considerations  of  health  and  of  modesty  in  youth ; 
considerations  of  honor  and  interest  in  a  more  advanced  age ;  con- 
siderations of  health  in  old  age — all  were  suppressed  by  the  single 
attraction  of  pleasure.  Behold  from  fifteen  to  fifty  years,  what  is  the 
force  of  reason  upon  the  spirit  of  a  libertine !  At  death,  say  you,  rea- 
son will  exert  its  strength ;  it  will  come  forth  from  the  tomb,  when 
man  shall  be  ready  to  enter  into  it :  its  light  will  awaken  him,  when 
life  is  almost  extinguished.  Think,  O  think  of  the  embarrassments 
which  then  beset  reason. 

First,  the  burden  of  the  disease ;  a  soul  plunged  by  the  violence 


90  CHARLESDELARUE. 

of  pain  into  sorrow,  into  an  invincible  disqiuetude,  coUectiag  all  its 
thoughts  only  to  contemj^late  its  misery.  Nothing  can  be  thought 
of  but  its  malady ;  restlessness  trembling,  burning  heats,  perspira- 
tions, faintiugs,  and  perpetually  increasing  disquietness.  Where  is 
then  the  reason  of  the  man  ?  Would  you  allow  him  in  this  state 
to  decide  on  your  smallest  affairs  ?  Would  you  find  in  him  sense 
enough  to  judge  of  them  with  propriety?  How  then  can  he  have 
enough  to  decide  with  propriety  on  the  affairs  of  his  soul  ? 

Besides  the  burden  of  the  disease,  there  is  another  burden,  that 
of  the  remedies.  He  is  recommended  to  rest,  sleep,  and  absence 
from  whatever  can  disquiet  him.  Can  he  think  seriously  on  his 
sins,  without  a  cruel  inquietude  ?  Dispirited,  disgusted  with  every 
thing,  interrupted  continually  by  the  painful  operations  of  the  sur- 
geons— not  having  sense  enough  to  be  persuaded  that  the  love  of  life 
ought  to  overcome  his  disgust — can  he  have  sufiicient  strength  of 
mind  to  persuade  himself  that  the  love  of  his  salvation  ought  to 
predominate  over  the  love  of  his  sin  ! 

Beside  the  burden  of  his  malady,  and  that  of  the  remedies,  there 
is  another  burden,  that  of  his  affairs.  A  family  in  confusion,  the 
heirs  embroiled,  accounts  to  settle,  debts  to  pay  ;  offices  and  employ- 
ments in  danger;  relations  and  friends  in  tears.  All  the  world  is 
fixing  its  eyes  upon  him ;  whatever  arrests  his  attention  seems  to 
speak  to  him  on  business.  And  how  can  he  think  only  on  those 
affairs  about  which  he  has  never  thought  before? 

Behold  that  man  of  importance  who  has  never  had  time  during 
so  many  years  to  study  his  own  heart,  and  to  scrutinize  his  conscience. 
Why  ?  sometimes  it  was  a  load  of  trouble,  sometimes  a  weight  of 
infirmities,  and  sometimes  a  press  of  business,  which  rendered  him 
incapable  of  application.  In  each  of  these  embarrassments,  taken 
separately,  he  never  found  himself  sufficiently  free,  nor  his  reason 
sufficiently  in  exercise,  to  think  upon  God.  Imagine  this  to  be  your 
case.  How  then  can  any  alteration  take  place,  my  dear  brother  ? 
How  will  your  mind  be  prepared  when  all  these  embarrassments  to- 
gether shall  overwhelm  you  at  death  ?  AVhen  all  the  parts  of  your 
frame  shall  say  to  you,  by  the  exhaustion  of  your  strength — think 
of  us.  When  your  domestics  shall  say  to  you,  by  their  feebly-acknowl- 
edged and  ill-requited  services — thinh  of  us.  When  your  affairs 
shall  say  to  you,  by  the  disorder  into  which  you  have  thrown  them — 
thinh  of  us.  When  your  creditors  shall  say  to  you,  at  the  sight  of 
their  goods  confounded  with  yours — thinlc  of  us.  When  those 
persons  who  are  dear  to  you  shall  say,  by  their  sighs,  alas !  for  the 
last  time — think  of  us.     Torn  on  every  side,  distracted  by  so  many 


THE    DYING    SINNER.  9I 

different  cries — your  reason,  at  its  last  gasp,  shall  cry  from  the 
bottom  of  your  conscience — think  of  tliyself]  miserable  man !  think  of 
■  thyself!  Leave  every  thing  besides,  and  think  only  of  thyself!  My 
dear  brother,  my  dear  friend,  will  your  feeble  reason  be  able  to  make 
itself  heard? 

Faith*  will  perhaps  come  to  the  help  of  reason,  to  make  you 
quit  all  other  cares,  and  apply  yourself  entirely  to  the  care  of  your 
soul.  Let  us  then  see  what  is  the  situation  of  faith  in  the  soul  of  the 
sinner.  It  is  there :  for  where  is  it  not  ?  And  were  any  one  to  say 
to  me  now,  ''It  is  not  in  me,"  I  would  say,  you  deceive  yourself;  it 
is  in  you,  only  surrounded  with  a  thousand  errors ;  obscured  by  a 
thousand  doubts  ;  concealed  under  the  mask  of  impiety ;  without  ac- 
tion, without  strength,  useless  and  languishing.  In  this  condition, 
sometimes  avoiding  faith,  and  sometimes  opposing  it,  we  become  in- 
sensible to  it.  We  are  accustomed  to  regard  the  cross  as  an  indiffer- 
ent object,  and  the  Gospel  as  a  fable.  We  are  no  longer  touched  by 
any  thing.  And  do  you  persuade  yourself  that  at  the  mere  mention  of 
death,  at  the  first  sight  of  danger,  you  shall  feel  faith  revive  in  your 
soul  ?  that  this  single  thought — I  must  appear  before  God — will  restore 
you  to  the  respect  which  you  have  stifled  for  the  cross,  for  the  sacra- 
ments, and  for  the  truths  of  religion  ?  I  admit  it :  but  grant  me 
what  I  am  going  to  say. 

If  then  your  faith  recover  some  strength,  it  will  be  but  very 
feeble.  It  will  never  return  with  its  former  vigor,  all  of  which  you 
will  then  need.  It  will  not  destroy  the  habits  of  aversion  to  the  things 
of  the  other  life,  of  disgust  and  coldness  toward  God,  habits  rooted 
in  you,  and  become,  as  it  were  your  nature.  An  act  of  faith  will  be 
required  of  you,  my  dear  brother ;  an  act  of  faith,  which  will  testify 
to  God  and  all  who  are  present,  that  you  die  in  the  sentiments  of  the 
Church.  "  Yes,  I  believe,"  says  the  dying  man.  You  believe  ?  That 
word  is  soon  uttered,  but  is  it  deeply  graven  on  your  heart  ?  Does 
it  efface  in  one  moment  those  ideas  produced  by  so  many  libertine 
conversations,  so  many  speculative  studies,  so  many  affected  doubts, 
such  disguised  atheism,  such  imaginary  power  of  reasoning  ?  Oh ! 
you  who  have  reasoned  so  much  upon  the  mysteries  of  religion,  upon 
predestination,  providence,  immortality,  divinity — you  who  railed  so 
admirably  at  the  credulity  of  the  simple — you  who  knew  so  well 
the  strength  of  your  genius  and  the  subtility  of  your  discernment — ■ 
you  now  say,  "  /  believe  T^     You  now  reduce  yourself  to  the  rank  of 

*  By  faith,  as  employed  in  this  place,  it  is  evident  that  the  preacher  means  nothing 
more  than  the  voluntary  homage  which  nature  generally  pays  to  Revelation  in  the  hour 
of  affliction,  or  at  the  approach  of  death. — Translator. 


92  CHARLESDELARUE. 

the  simple  and  ignorant!  You  now  renounce  your  worldly  wisdom  ! 
Your  reasons  now  then  are  of  no  avail !  You  have  now  no  more 
scruples  in  these  matters !  It  is  now  no  longer  a  dishonor  to  you  to 
say,  with  all  the  Church,  I  believe  !  These  two  words  are  indeed  very 
powerful  to  make  such  a  wonderful  revolution  in  your  mind  in  a 
moment ! 

But  if  you  do  believe  with  an  undisguised  faith,  this  is  only  the 
disposition  of  the  understanding.  What  is  there  of  the  heart  ?  for  it 
is  in  the  heart  that  conversion  must  be  consummated.  That  heart 
ought  to  be  free,  sincere,  and  firm,  which  is  truly  converted :  this  is 
absolutely  necessary.  But  the  will  of  a  dying  sinner,  far  from  being 
free,  is  forced ;  far  from  being  firm,  is  weak,  and  always  ready  to 
change  ;  far  from  being  sincere,  is  double  and  disguised,  and  coun- 
terfeited. What  appearance  is  there  of  conversion  in  the  heart  thus 
disposed  ? 

There  is  no  conversion  without  liberty.  But  is  the  divorce  which 
is  made  at  such  a  time  from  sin,  free  ?  Is  it  not  really  forced  ?  Is  it 
not  the  effect  of  fear  and  necessity  ?  You  forsake  your  sins  ?  You 
are  deceived,  says  St.  Ambrose.  Your  sins  forsake  you !  You  say 
that  you  forsake,  at  least,  the  occasions  and  the  objects  of  them.  You 
are  wrong,  they  are  the  occasions  and  the  objects  which  forsake  you  ! 
With  what  grief  do  you  see  them  escaping !  What  would  j^ou  not 
do  still  to  recall  them !  And  you  boast  that  3^ou  have  forsaken  them ! 
You  say  you  offer  your  life  to  God  in  expiation  for  your  sins.  Im- 
aginary sacrifice !  "Vain  and  foolish  presumption !  It  is  God  who 
takes  your  life  away  from  you.  You  have  never  dreamed  but  of 
life,  while  there  was  the  least  hope  of  saving  it.  You  have  struggled 
to  preserve  it  even  to  the  last  spark.  And  now  you  pretend  to  ofier 
it,  and  to  sacrifice  it  to  God,  when  it  is  no  longer  your  own ! 

But  suppose  the  offering  to  be  free,  suppose  the  change  to  be  un- 
constrained :  what  is  its  duration  ?  Till  death  ?  Ah,  would  to  God 
that  it  were !  For,  without  noticing  the  usual  relapses  of  the  greater 
part  of  those  who  escape  the  danger,  how  much  is  to  be  feared  from 
inconstancy  and  lightness  of  heart,  even  in  the  moment  of  death  ? 
To  how  many  unforeseen  assaults  and  new  temptations  is  the  man 
then  exposed?  You  have  never  known  hoAv  to  combat  them  during 
life,  how  then  can  you  repulse  them  at  death  ?  How  necessary  was 
it  for  you  in  full  health  to  receive  supplies  of  grace  when  you  visited 
the  Church,  that  sacred  place,  where  you  applied  to  receive  them  ? 
What  was  then  wanted  to  recall  you  to  sin  ?  Often  nothing  else  but 
a  recollection,  an  idea,  a  sudden  return  of  affection  for  some  detested 
objects.     When  in  full  health,  nothing  more  was  requisite  to  bring 


THE    DYING    SINNER.  93 

you  under  the  yoke  of  your  first  tyrant.  What  will  then  be  neces- 
sary in  the  diminution  of  your  strength,  and  in  the  increase  of  his 
fury  against  a  soul  that  has  always  been  his  slave,  and  that  must 
soon  be  his  prey  ?  Let  then  one  single  sin,  a  sin  of  habit,  a  sin  of 
the  heart,  present  itself  to  the  sinner's  mind,  to  his  feeble  imagina- 
tion— let  the  heart,  yet  more  feeble,  indulge  this  phantom  with  a 
parley  but  for  a  moment,  and  express  but  one  single  sentiment  of 
regret — ah !  he  abandons  himself — he  abandons  himself,  to  leturn  to 
himself  no  more !  It  is  done  I  It  is  the  last  movement  of  that  heart, 
the  last  breath  of  life,  the  decisive  sigh  of  a  wretched  eternity ! 
Zealous  ministers,  sympathizing  friends,  pray,  weep,  bear  to  his  deaf 
ears  the  name  of  the  Saviour !  exhibit  that  Saviour  upon  the  cross ! 
redouble  your  aspirations  and  your  cries !  You  see  not  the  bottom 
of  that  mind  nor  of  that  heart !  God  sees  it !  God  condemns  it ! 
He  is  dead — he  is  damned  ! 

"  But  is  it  necessary  for  his  damnation,  that,  while  he  breathes  his 
last,  the  phantom  of  his  sin  should  be  brought  to  his  recollection, 
and  be  retraced  in  his  heart  ?"  Had  it  ever  quitted  it  ?  Had  he  ever 
sincerely  detested  it  ?  Far  from  it.  What  is  it  to  be  truly  con- 
verted ?  It  is  to  love  what  you  have  hated  ;  it  is  to  hate  what  you 
have  loved ;  it  is  to  love  God  above  all  created  good  ;  it  is  to  hate 
sin  more  than  all  other  evils.  A  change  so  difficult,  and  yet  so 
necessary  and  important,  is  not  effected  without  diligence,  and  above 
all,  without  courage.  But  in  the  moment  of  exigency,  to  what  feeble- 
ness has  habit  reduced  the  sinner  ?  The  enormity  of  his  sins,  the 
facility  with  which  he  has  sinned,  his  insensibility  to  sin,  have 
generated  a  multitude  of  difficulties.  Slow  to  fly  it,  to  avoid  it,  to 
quit  it,  from  the  tender  years  of  youth,  and  in  ever}'"  future  stage  of 
life — he  said  an  hundred  times  to  those  who  pressed  him  to  for- 
sake it — No,  I  can  not,  I  can  not  now ;  do  not  speak  to  me  about 
it,  I  can  not.  And  now,  when  the  soul  hangs  trembling  on  the  lips, 
how  can  he  have  sufficient  courage  and  firmness  resolutely  to  say — 
I  can,  yes,  I  can ! 

Can  you,  my  dear  brother,  hear  then  what  the  minister  says  to 
you,  while  performing  his  office  for  the  last  time  ? — You  believe. 
This  is  not  enough,  my  dear  brother.  You  must  love  God.  This  is 
the  essential  point.  Without  love  to  God  there  is  no  salvation. — 
"  Well,"  answers  the  dying  man,  "  I  must  love  God." — "  What  must 
I  say  ?"— "  But  how  ?"— "  What  must  I  do  ?"— "  Aid  me  !" 

Aid  you !  0  sinner,  object  of  pity,  aid  you  to  love  God !  Did 
you  need  any  aid  to  make  you  love  the  world,  its  fashions,  its  vani- 
ties, its  company,  its  excess — ^into  which  your  depraved  heart  hur- 


94  CHARLES    DE    LA    RUE. 

ried  itself  without  any  difficulty  ?  You  Vv^ere  created  to  love  God ; 
for  this  is  the  end  of  man.  You  were  created  to  love  God,  but  you 
have  never  loved  Him  in  the  whole  course  of  your  life,  and  yet  you 
expect  to  love  Him  at  the  moment  when  you  are  about  to  die,  and 
even  in  that  deplorable  moment  you  want  aid  to  love  Him  ! 

Poor  substitute  for  a  duty  necessarily  personal !  Useless  sub- 
stitute !  The  love  of  God  on  the  lips  of  a  minister,  only  at  the  mo- 
ment when  it  ought  to  be  in  the  midst  of  your  heart !  If  this  love 
was  there,  if  it  was  in  your  heart,  how  would  it  make  you  feel  the 
evil  of  sin  !  how  would  it  make  you  feel  itself!  Can  a  heart  love  with- 
out feeling  it  ?  By  what  outgushings  will  not  the  love  of  God  make 
itself  known  in  the  hearts  of  penitent  saints  ?  To  what  lengths  did 
not  the  love  of  God  go  in  the  heart  of  Saint  Paul  ?  He  loved  God 
so  as  to  call  all  the  powers  of  earth,  heaven,  and  hell  to  be  witnesses 
of  his  love  :  so  as  to  defy  all  creatures  to  separate  him  from  his  love ! 
"  Who  shall  separate  us  from  the  love  of  Christ  ?"  This  man  says  that 
he  is  a  penitent.  Sirs,  that  is  to  say  that  there  is  nothing  that  can  dis- 
pute the  first  place  in  his  heart  with  God,  That  is  to  say  that  he  no 
longer  loves  any  thing  that  is  opposed  to  God,  nor  more  than  God, 
nor  like  God.  There  is  no  conversion  unless  we  have  all  these 
preferences  for  God.  And  how  can  we  have  them,  and  feel  nothing  ? 
— and  not  be  able,  without  being  taught,  to  say  to  God,  "to?/  God,  I 
love  Thee  ?"  Ah  !  Thou  wilt  then  be  the  only  being,  O  thou  God  of 
inexhaustible  goodness — Thou  wilt  be  the  only  being  that  can  be 
loved,  without  feeling  that  we  love  Thee,  and  without  being  able  to 
express  it !  AYe  may  then  die,  like  Christians,  in  the  hope  of  Thy 
glory,  without  ever  having  exercised  the  essential  act  of  a  Christian 
during  life,  and  knowing  how  to  exercise  it  after  death  ! 

Think,  sirs,  on  the  grief  of  a  zealous  and  sincere  minister  at  the 
sight  of  this  stupidity  in  a  dying  man  !  Perplexed  about  what  he 
must  do,  not  daring  to  deprive  him  of  hope,  and  seeing  no  founda- 
tion on  which  to  give  him  encouragement !  Fearing  lest  he  should 
flatter  him  by  too  much  tenderness,  and  still  more  lest  he  should 
drive  him  to  despair  by  too  much  boldness  !  Mistrusting  equally  his 
pity  and  his  zeal — Ah  !  if  in  this  embarrassment  he  could  release  you 
from  the  obligation  of  loving  God — if  he  could  make  up  for  your 
insensibility-  by  the  ardor  of  his  words,  and  the  tenderness  of  his 
heart — might  not  this  be  acceptable  with  God  ? 

No,  this  will  not  do,  my  dear  brother!  We  vavi'&i personally  be- 
lieve and  personally  love.  0  moments  lost  forever,  in  which,  dur- 
ing the  whole  course  of  your  life,  you  might  have  loved  God,  might 
have  learned  to  love  Him,  might  have  accustomed  yoiirself  to  love 


THE    DYING    SINNER.  95 

Him !  Precious  moments !  in  wliicli  Divine  grace  solicited  your 
heart — in  wliicli  all  tlie  obstinacy  of  your  malice  it  was  necessary  to 
resist !  Then,  then,  God  spake !  The  mind  and  the  heart  had  but  to 
follow !  Now  God  speaks  no  more  !  His  mind  and  His  heart  are  shut 
against  your  misery  !  Your  mind  and  your  heart  are  shut  against 
His  mercy !  What  do  you  expect  but  the  rigors  of  His  justice  ?  My 
hearers,  you  still  possess  these  precious  moments !  God  addresses 
you  while  I  address  you !  Expect  not  that  these  moments  will  never 
pass  away !  Make  use  of  them  in  the  exercise  of  a  prompt  repent- 
ance !  So  be  it — in  the  name  of  the  Father j  of  the  Son,  and  of  the 
Holy  Spirit! 


DISCOURSE    FIFTIETH. 

FRANCOIS  DE   SALIGNAC  DE  LA  MOTHE- 

FENELON. 

The  celebrated  Fexelon  was  bom  in  1651,  at  Perigord.  He  was 
educated  at  Cohoes  and  Paris ;  took  orders  at  the  age  of  twenty-four ; 
and  subsequently,  at  different  periods,  acted  as  minister  in  the  parish  of 
St.  Sulpice,  Abbe,  or  Superior  of  an  institution  of  "  New  Catholics," 
missionary  to  convert  the  Protestants,  and  tutor  to  the  Dukes  of  Bur- 
gundy, Aujou,  and  Berri.  His  success  in  this  last  position  led  to  his 
elevation  to  the  Archbishopric  of  Cambray ;  where,  after  a  hfe  of  purity, 
prayer,  and  pious  effort,  sometimes  saddened  by  persecution  for  right- 
eousness' sake,  principally  by  Bossuet,  for  his  doctrines  of  Quietism,  he 
died  in  1715,  uttermg  as  his  last  words,  "Thy  will  be  done." 

Fenelon,  notwithstanding  his  adherence  to  the  Catholic  faith,  was  a 
man  of  deep  piety,  and  remarkable  zeal  and  sincerity  of  purpose.  He 
was  called  "the  good  Archbishop  of  Cambray,"  and,  as  marking  the 
contrast  between  him  and  Bossuet,  Bishop  of  Meaux,  it  was  a  common 
remark  that  "  Ihm  prouve  la  religion,  V autre  la  fait  ai-inery — The  one 
2)roves  religion ;  the  other  causes  it  to  be  loved. 

He  used  to  say,  "  I  spend  much  time  m  my  closet,  in  order  to  be 
prepared  for  the  pulpit,  and  to  be  sure  that  my  heart  is  filled  from  the 
Di\ine  Fountain,  before  I  am  to  pour  out  the  streams  upon  the  people." 
As  a  preacher,  he  had  not  the  reputation  of  an  orator,  and  seems  to 
have  studiously  avoided  the  ornamental  for  the  solid  beauties  founded 
on.  nature  and  good  sense.  Cardinal  Maury  characterizes  his  as  an 
"  Eloquence  soft  and  flowing,  which,  far  from  exciting  violent  emotions, 
gently  insinuates  itself  into  the  soul,  and  awakens  the  most  tender  affec- 
tions." D'Alembert  says  of  his  works,  "  Their  most  touching  charm  is 
the  sensation  of  peace,  and  repose,  with  which  he  inspires  the  reader," 
The  literary  works  of  Fenelon  are  well  known,  such  as  his  admirable 
"  Dialo2:ues  on  Eloquence,"  and  his  "  Telemaque."  There  are  but  four  of 
his  sermons  extant :  one  on  "  Foreign  Missions,"  the  others  on  "  Prayer," 
"  Piety,"  and  the  "  Consecration  of  the  Elector  of  Cologne."  That  ou 
Prayer,  especially,  while  it  lacks  the  lofty  utterances  of  some  of  Fenelon's 


THE    SAINT'S    CONVERSE    WITH    GOD.  97 

cotemporaries,  is  an  aclmiralble  production.  It  has  been  pronounced  with 
great  propriety,  "  a  chef-cVmuvre  for  simplicity,  argument,  jiiety,  and 
composition."  Few  men  have  been  better  quaUfied  to  speak  on  this 
subject  than  the  good  Fenelon  ;  of  whom  it  was  said  by  one  who  en- 
joyed his  friendship,  "while  he  watched  over  his  flock  with  a  daily  care, 
he  prayed  in  the  deep  retirement  of  internal  solitude."  The  sermon,  ui 
the  original,  is  without  a  text,  as  are  all  the  four  above-mentioned,  ex- 
cejrt  that  on  "  Missions."  We  append  one  that  is  appropriate,  and  prob- 
ably, from  a  single  allusion,  that  on  which  the  author  discoursed. 


THE  SAINT'S  CONVERSE  WITH  GOD. 

"Pray  without  ceasing." — 1  Thes.  v.  17. 

Of  all  the  duties  enjoined  by  Christianity,  none  is  more  essen- 
tial, and  yet  more  neglected,  than  prayer.  Most  people  consider 
this  exercise  a  \vearisome  ceremony,  whicli  they  are  justified  in 
abridging  as  mnch  as  possible.  Even  those  whose  profession  or 
fears  lead  them  to  pray,  do  it  with  sucb  languor  and  wanderings  of 
mind,  that  their  prayers,  far  from  drawing  down  blessings,  only  in- 
crease tlieir  condemnation.  I  Avish  to  demonstrate,  in  this  discourse, 
first,  the  general  necessity  of  prayer ;  secondly,  its  peculiar  duty  ; 
thirdly,  the  manner  in  whicli  we  ought  to  pray. 

First.  God  alone  can  instruct  us  in  our  duty.  The  teachings  of 
men,  however  wise  and  well  disposed  they  may  be,  are  still  ineffect- 
ual, if  God  do  not  shed  on  the  soul  that  light  which  opens  the  mind 
to  truth.  The  imperfections  of  our  fellow-creatures  cast  a  shade 
over  the  truths  that  we  learn  from  them.  Such  is  our  weakness 
that  we  do  not  receive,  with  sufficient  docility,  the  instructions  of 
those  who  are  as  imperfect  as  ourselves,  A  thousand  suspicions, 
jealousies,  fears,  and  prejudices  prevent  us  from  profiting,  as  we 
might,  by  what  we  hear  from  men  ;  and  though  they  announce  the 
most  serious  truths,  yet  what  they  do,  weakens  the  effect  of  what 
they  say.     In  a  word,  it  is  God  alone  who  can  perfectly  teach  us. 

St,  Bernard  said,  in  writing  to  a  pious  friend — If  you  are  seek- 
ing less  to  satisfy  a  vain  curiosity  than  to  get  true  wisdom,  you  will 
sooner  find  it  in  deserts  than  in  books.  The  silence  of  the  rocks 
and  the  pathless  forests  will  teach  you  better  than  the  eloquence  of 
the  most  gifted  men.  "  All,"  says  St.  Augustin,  "  that  we  possess  of 
truth  and  wisdom,  is  a  borrowed  good,  flowing  from  that  fountain, 
for  which  we  ought  to  thirst  in  the  fearful  desert  of  this  woihl,  that, 

7 


98  FfiN^LON. 

being  refreslied  and  invigorated  by  these  dews  from  heaven,  we  may 
not  faint  upon  the  road  that  conducts  us  to  a  better  country.  Every 
attempt  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  our  hearts  at  other  sources,  only 
increases  the  void.  You  will  be  always  poor,  if  you  do  not  possess 
the  only  true  riches."  All  light  that  does  not  proceed  from  God, 
is  false  ;  it  only  dazzles  us  ;  it  sheds  no  illumination  upon  the  diffi- 
cult paths  in  which  we  must  walk,  along  the  precipices  that  are 
about  us. 

Our  experience  and  our  reflections  can  not,  on  all  occasions,  give 
us  just  and  certain  rules  of  conduct.  The  advice  of  our  wisest  and 
most  sincere  friends  is  not  always  sufficient ;  many  things  escape 
their  observation,  and  many  that  do  not  are  too  painful  to  be  spoken. 
They  suppress  much  from  delicacy,  or  sometimes  from  a  fear  of 
transgressing  the  bounds  that  our  friendship  and  confidence  in  them 
will  allow.  The  animadversions  of  our  enemies,  however  severe  or 
vigilant  they  may  be,  fail  to  enlighten  us  with  regard  to  ourselves. 
Their  malignity  furnishes  our  self-love  with  a  joretext  for  the  indulg- 
ence of  the  greatest  faults.  The  blindness  of  our  self-love  is  so 
great  that  we  find  reasons  for  being  satisfied  with  ourselves,  while 
all  the  world  condemn  us.  What  must  we  learn  from  all  this  dark- 
ness ?  That  it  is  God  alone  w^ho  can  dissipate  it ;  that  it  is  He  alone 
whom  we  can  never  doubt ;  that  He  alone  is  true,  and  knoweth  all 
things ;  that  if  we  go  to  Him  in  sincerity.  He  will  teach  us  what 
men  dare  not  tell  us,  what  books  can  not — all  that  is  essential  for  us 
to  know. 

Be  assured  that  the  greatest  obstacle  to  true  wisdom  is  the  self- 
confidence  inspired  by  that  which  is  false.  The  first  step  toward 
this  precious  knowledge,  is,  earnestly  to  desire  it,  io  feel  the  ivant  of  it, 
and  to  be  convinced  that  they  who  seek  it  must  address  themselves 
to  the  Father  of  lights,  who  freely  gives  to  him  who  asks  in  faith. 
But  if  it  be  true  that  God  alone  can  enlighten  us,  it  is  not  the  less 
true  that  He  will  do  this,  simply  in  answer  to  our  prayers.  Are  we 
not  happy,  indeed,  in  being  able  to  obtain  so  great  a  blessing  by 
only  asking  for  it  ?  No  part  of  the  effort  that  we  make  to  acquire 
the  transient  enjoyments  of  this  life,  is  necessary  to  obtain  these 
heavenly  blessings.  What  will  we  not  do,  what  are  we  not  willing 
to  suffer,  to  possess  dangerous  and  contemptible  things,  and  often 
without  any  success?  It  is  not  thus  with  heavenly  things.  God  is 
always  ready  to  grant  them  to  those  who  make  the  request  in  sin- 
cerity and  truth.  The  Christian  life  is  a  long  and  continual  tend- 
ency of  our  hearts  toward  that  eternal  goodness  which  we  desire 
on  earth.     All  our  happiness  consists  in  thirsting  for  it.     Now  this 


THE    SAINT'S    CONVERSE    WITH    GOD.  99 

thirst  is  prayer.  Ever  desire  to  approach,  your  Creator,  and  you 
will  never  cease  to  pray. 

Do  not  think  that  it  is  necessary  to  pronounce  many  -words.  To 
pray  is  to  say,  Let  Thy  will  be  done.  It  is  to  form  a  good  purpose  ; 
to  raise  your  heart  to  God ;  to  lament  your  weakness ;  to  sigh  at  the 
recollection  of  your  frequent  disobedience.  This  prayer  demands 
neither  method,  nor  science,  nor  reasoning ;  it  is  not  essential  to 
quit  one's  employment ;  it  is  a  simple  movement  of  the  heart  toward 
its  Creator,  and  a  desire  that  whatever  you  are  doing  you  may  do  it 
to  His  glory.  The  best  of  all  prayers  is  to  act  with  a  pure  intention, 
and  with  a  continual  reference  to  the  will  of  God.  It  depends  much 
upon  ourselves  whether  our  prayers  be  efficacious.  It  is  not  by  a 
miracle,  but  by  a  movement  of  the  heart  that  we  are  benefited ;  by 
a  submissive  spirit.  Let  us  believe,  let  us  trust,  let  us  hope,  and 
God  never  will  reject  our  prayer.  Yet  how  many  Christians  do  we 
see  strangers  to  the  privilege,  aliens  from  God,  who  seldom  think  of 
Him,  who  never  open  their  hearts  to  Him  ;  who  seek  elsewhere  the 
counsels  of  a  false  wisdom,  and  vain  and  dangerous  consolations ; 
who  can  not  resolve  to  seek,,  in  humble,  fervent  prayer  to  God,  a 
remedy  for  their  griefs  and  a  true  knowledge  of  their  defects,  the 
necessary  power  to  conquer  their  vicious  and  perverse  inclinations, 
and  the  consolations  and  assistance  they  require,  that  they  may  not 
be  discouraged  in  a  virtuous  life. 

But  some  will  say.  "  I  have  no  interest  in  prayer ;  it  wearies  me ; 
my  imagination  is  excited  by  sensible  and  more  agreeable  objects, 
and  wanders  in  spite  of  me." 

If  neither  your  reverence  for  the  great  truths  of  religion,  nor  the 
majesty  of  the  ever-present  Deity,  nor  the  interest  of  your  eternal 
salvation,  have  power  to  arrest  your  mind,  and  engage  it  in  prayer, 
at  least  mourn  with  me  for  your  infidelity ;  be  ashamed  of  your  weak- 
ness, and  wish  that  your  thoughts  were  more  under  yoar  control  ; 
and  desire  to  become  less  frivolous  and  inconstant.  Make  an  effort 
to  subject  your  mind  to  this  discipline.  You  will  gradually  acquire 
habit  and  fiicility.  What  is  now  tedious  will  become  delightful ; 
and  you  will  then  feel,  with  a  peace  that  the  world  can  not  give  nor 
take  away,  that  God  is  good.  Make  a  courageous  effort  to  overcome 
yourself.     There  can  be  no  occasion  that  more  demands  it. 

Secondhj.  The  jpeculiar  oUigation  of  prayer.  Were  I  to  give  all  the 
proofs  that  the  subject  affords,  I  should  describe  every  condition  of 
life,  that  I  might  point  out  its  dangers,  and  the  necessity  of  recourse 
to  God  in  prayer.  But  I  will  simply  state  that  under  all  circum- 
stances we  have  need  of  prayer.     There  is  no  situation  in  which  it 


100  FfiN^LON. 

is  possible  to  be  placed,  where  we  liave  not  many  virtues  to  acquire 
and  many  faults  to  correct.  "We  find  in  our  temperament,  or  in  our 
habits,  or  in  the  peculiar  character  of  our  minds,  qualities  that  do 
not  suit  our  occupations,  and  that  oppose  our  duties.  One  person  is 
connected  by  marriage  to  another  whose  temper  is  so  unequal  that 
life  becomes  a  perpetual  warfare.  Some,  who  are  exposed  to  the 
contagious  atmosphere  of  the  world,  find  themselves  so  susceptible 
to  the  vanity  which  they  inhale  that  all  their  pure  desires  vanish. 
Others  have  solemnly  promised  to  renounce  their  resentments,  to 
conquer  their  aversions,  to  suffer  with  patience  certain  crosses,  and 
to  repress  their  eagerness  for  wealth  ;  but  nature  prevails,  and  they 
are  vindictive,  violent,  impatient,  and  avaricious. 

Whence  comes  it  that  these  resolutions  are  so  frail  ?  that  all  these 
people  wish  to  improve,  desire  to  perform  their  duty  toward  God  and 
man  better,  and  yet  fail  ?  It  is  because  our  own  strength  and  wis- 
dom, alone,  are  not  enough.  We  undertake  to  do  every  thing  with- 
out God  ;  therefore  we  do  not  succeed.  It  is  at  the  foot  of  the  altar 
that  we  must  seek  for  counsel  which  will  aid  us.  It  is  with  God  that 
we  must  lay  our  plan  of  virtue  and  usefulness  ;  it  is  lie  alone  that 
can  render  them  successful.  Without  Him,  all  our  designs,  however 
good  they  may  appear,  are  only  temerity  and  delusion.  Let  us  then 
pray,  that  we  may  learn  what  we  are  and  what  we  ought  to  be.  By 
this  means,  we  shall  not  only  learn  the  number  and  the  evil  effects 
of  our  peculiar  faults,  but  we  shall  also  learn  to  what  virtues  we  are 
called,  and  the  way  to  practice  them.  The  rays  of  that  pure  and 
heavenly  light  that  visits  the  humble  soul,  will  beam  on  us ;  and  we 
shall  feel  and  understand  that  every  thing  is  possible  to  those  who 
put  their  whole  trust  in  God.  Thus,  not  only  to  those  ^vho  live  in 
retirement,  but  to  those  who  are  exposed  to  the  agitations  of  the 
world  and  the  excitements  of  business,  it  is  peculiarly  necessary,  by 
contem^^lation  and  fervent  prayer,  to  restore  their  souls  to  that 
serenity  which  the  dissipations  of  life,  and  commerce  with  men  have 
disturbed.  To  those  who  are  engaged  in  business,  contemplation 
and  prayer  are  much  more  difficult  than  to  those  who  live  in  retire- 
ment ;  but  it  is  far  more  necessary  for  them  to  have  frequent  recourse 
to  God  in  fervent  prayer.  In  the  most  holy  occupation,  a  certain 
degree  of  precaution  is  necessary. 

Do  not  devote  all  your  time  to  action,  but  reserve  a  certain  por- 
tion of  it  for  meditation  upon  eternity.  We  see  Jesus  Christ  invit- 
ing His  disciples  to  go  apart,  in  a  desert  place,  and  rest  awhile,  after 
their  return  from  the  cities,  where  they  had  been  to  announce  His 
religion.     How  much  more  necessary  is  it  for  us  to  approach  the 


THE    SAINT'S    CONVERSE    WITH    GOD.  IQl 

source  of  all  virtue,  that  we  may  revive  our  declining  faith  and  char- 
ity, when  we  return  from  the  busy  scenes  of  life,  where  men  speak 
and  act  as  if  they  had  never  known  that  there  is  a  God !  We  should 
look  upon  prayer  as  the  remedy  for  our  weaknesses,  the  rectifier  of 
our  faults.  He  who  was  without  sin,  prayed  constantly ;  how  much 
more  ought  we,  who  are  sinners,  to  be  faithful  in  prayer ! 

Even  the  exercise  of  charity  is  often  a  snare  to  us.  It  calls  us 
to  certain  occupations  that  dissipate  the  mind,  and  that  may  degen- 
erate into  mere  amusement.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  St.  Chrysos- 
tom  says  that  nothing  is  so  important  as  to  keep  an  exact  proportion 
between  the  interior  source  of  virtue,  and  the  external  practice  of  it ; 
else,  like  the  foolish  virgins,  we  shall  find  that  the  oil  in  our  lamp  is 
exhausted  when  the  bridegroom  comes. 

The  necessity  we  feel  that  God  should  bless  our  labors,  is  another 
powerful  motive  to  prayer.  It  often  happens  that  all  human  help  is 
vain.  It  is  God  alone  that  can  aid  us,  and  it  does  not  require  much 
faith  to  believe  that  it  is  less  our  exertions,  our  foresight,  and  our 
industry,  than  the  blessing  of  the  Almighty,  that  can  give  success  to 
our  wishes. 

Thirdly.  Of  the  inanner  in  which  ive  ought  to  pray .  1.  We  must 
j^ray  with  attention.  God  listens  to  the  voice  of  the  heart,  not  to  that 
of  the  lips.  Our  whole  heart  must  be  engaged  in  prayer.  It  must 
fasten  upon  what  it  prays  for ;  and  every  human  object  must  dis- 
appear from  our  minds.  To  whom  should  we  speak  with  attention, 
if  not  to  God  ?  Can  He  demand  less  of  us  than  that  we  should 
think  of  what  we  say  to  Him?  Dare  we  hope  that  He  will  listen  to 
us,  and  think  of  us,  when  we  forget  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  our 
prayers  ?  This  attention  to  prayer,  which  it  is  so  just  to  exact  from 
Christians,  may  be  practiced  with  less  difficulty  than  we  imagine.  It 
is  true,  that  the  most  faithful  souls  suffer  from  occasional  involun- 
tary distractions.  They  can  not  always  control  their  imaginations, 
and,  in  the  silence  of  their  spirits,  enter  into  the  presence  of  God. 
But  these  unbidden  wanderings  of  the  mind  ought  not  to  trouble  us; 
and  they  may  conduce  to  our  perfection  even  more  than  the  most 
sublime  and  affecting  prayers,  if  we  earnestly  strive  to  overcome 
them,  and  submit  with  humility  to  this  experience  of  our  infirmity. 
But  to  dwell  willingly  on  frivolous  and  worldly  things,  during 
prayer,  to  make  no  effort  to  check  the  vain  thoughts  that  intrude 
upon  this  sacred  employment,  and  come  between  us  and  the  Father 
of  our  spirits — is  not  this  choosing  to  live  the  sport  of  our  senses, 
and  separated  from  God  ? 

2.  We  must  also  ask  luith  faith  ;  a  faith  so  firm  that  it  never  fal- 


102  F  IE  N  E  L  0  N  . 

ters.  He  who  prays  witliout  confidence  can  not  liope  that  his  prayer 
will  be  granted.  Will  not  God  love  the  heart  that  trusts  in  Him  ? 
"Will  He  reject  those  who  bring  all  their  treasures  to  Him,  and  repose 
every  thing  upon  His  goodness  ?  When  we  pray  to  God,  says  St. 
Cyprian,  with  entire  assurance,  it  is  Himself  who  has  given  us  the 
spirit  of  our  prayer.  Then  it  is  the  Father  listening  to  the  words  of 
His  child ;  it  is  He  who  dwells  in  our  hearts,  teaching  us  to  pray. 
But  must  we  not  confess  that  this  filial  confidence  is  wanting  in  all 
our  prayers  ?  Is  not  prayer  our  resource  only  when  all  others  have 
failed  us  ?  If  we  look  into  our  hearts,  shall  we  not  find  that  we  ask 
of  God  as  if  we  had  never  before  received  benefits  from  Him  ?  Shall 
we  not  discover  there  a  secret  infidelity,  that  renders  us  unworthy  of 
His  goodness?  Let  us  tremble,  lest,  when  Jesus  Christ  shall  judge 
us,  He  pronounces  the  same  reproach  that  He  did  to  Peter,  "0  thou 
of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  ?" 

3.  AVe  must  join  humility  with  trust  Great  God,  said  Daniel, 
when  we  j)rostrate  ourselves  at  Thy  feet,  we  do  not  place  our  hopes 
for  the  success  of  our  prayers  upon  our  righteousness,  but  upon  Thy 
mercy.  Without  this  disposition  in  our  hearts,  all  others,  however 
pious  they  may  be,  can  not  please  God.  Saint  Augustin  observes 
that  the  failure  of  Peter  should  not  be  attributed  to  insincerity  in 
his  zeal  for  Jesus  Christ.  He  loved  his  Master  in  good  faith ;  in 
good  faith  he  would  rather  have  died  than  have  forsaken  Him  ;  but 
his  fault  lay  in  trusting  to  his  own  strength,  to  do  what  his  own  heart 
dictated. 

It  is  not  enough  to  possess  a  right  spirit,  an  exact  knowledge  of 
duty,  a  sincere  desire  to  perform  it.  We  must  continually  renew 
this  desire,  and  enkindle  this  flame  within  us,  at  the  fountain  of  pure 
and  eternal  light. 

It  is  the  humble  and  contrite  heart  that  God  will  not  despise. 
Eemark  the  diiference  which  the  Evangelist  has  pointed  out  between 
the  prayer  of  the  proud  and  presumptuous  Pharisee,  and  the  humble 
and  penitent  Publican.  The  one  relates  his  virtues,  the  other 
deplores  his  sins.  The  good  works  of  the  one  shall  be  set  aside,  while 
the  penitence  of  the  other  shall  be  accepted.  It  will  be  thus  with 
many  Christians.  Sinners,  vile  in  their  own  eyes,  will  be  objects  of 
the  mercy  of  God  ;  while  some,  who  have  made  professions  of  piety, 
will  be  condemned  on  account  of  the  pride  and  arrogance  that  have 
contaminated  their  good  works.  It  v;ill  be  so,  because  these  have 
said  in  their  hearts,  "  Lord,  I  thank  thee  that  I  am  not  as  other  men 
are."  They  imagine  themselves  privileged  souls  ;  they  pretend  that 
they  alone  have  penetrated  the  mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  God  ; 


THE    SAINT'S    CONVERSE    WITH    GOD.  103 

they  have  a  language  and  science  of  their  own ;  they  beheve  that 
their  zeal  can  accomplish  every  thing.  Their  regular  lives  favor 
their  vanity ;  but  in  truth  they  are  inca^Dable  of  self-sacrifice,  and 
they  go  to  their  devotions  with  their  hearts  full  of  pride  and  pre- 
sumption. Unhappy  are  those  who  pray  in  this  manner !  Unhappy 
are  they  whose  j)rayers  do  not  render  them  more  humble,  more  sub- 
missive, more  watchful  over  their  faults,  and  more  willing  to  live  in 
obscurity ! 

4.  We  must  pray  with  love.  It  is  love,  says  St.  Augustin, 
that  asks,  that  seeks,  that  knocks,  that  finds,  and  that  is  faithful  to 
what  it  finds.  We  cease  to  pray  to  God  as  soon  as  we  cease  to 
love  Him,  as  soon  as  we  cease  to  thirst  for  His  perfections.  The 
coldness  of  our  love  is  the  silence  of  our  hearts  toward  God.  With- 
out this  we  may  iDronounce  prayers,  but  we  do  not  pray ;  for  what 
shall  lead  us  to  meditate  upon  the  laws  of  God,  if  it  be  not  the  love 
of  Him  who  has  made  these  laws  ?  Let  our  hearts  be  full  of  love, 
then,  and  they  will  pray.  Happy  are  they  who  think  seriously  of 
the  truths  of  religion  ;  but  far  more  happy  are  they  who  feel 
and  love  them  I  We  must  ardently  desire  that  God  will  grant  us 
spiritual  blessings ;  and  the  ardor  of  our  wishes  must  render  us  fit 
to  receive  the  blessings.  For  if  we  pray  only  from  custom,  from 
fear,  in  the  time  of  tribulation — if  we  honor  God  only  with  our  lips, 
while  our  hearts  are  far  from  Him — if  we  do  not  feel  a  strong  desire 
for  the  success  of  our  prayers — ^if  we  feel  a  chilling  indifference  in 
approaching  Him  who  is  a  consuming  fire — if  we  have  no  zeal  for 
His  glory — if  we  do  not  feel  hatred  for  sin,  and  a  thirst  for  perfec- 
tion, we  can  not  hope  for  a  blessing  upon  such  heartless  prayers. 

5.  We  must  pray  ivith  perseverance.  The  perfect  heart  is  never 
weary  of  seeking  God.  Ought  we  to  complain  if  God  sometimes 
leaves  us  to  obscurity,  and  doubt,  and  temptation?  Trials  purify 
humble  souls,  and  they  serve  to  expiate  the  faults  of  the  unfaithful. 
They  confound  those  who,  even  in  their  prayers,  have  flattered  their 
cowardice  and  pride.  K  an  innocent  soul,  devoted  to  God,  suffer 
from  any  secret  disturbance,  it  should  be  humble,  adore  the  designs 
of  God,  and  redouble  its  prayers  and  its  fervor.  How  often  do  we 
hear  those  who  every  day  have  to  reproach  themselves  with  unfaith- 
fulness toward  God,  complain  that  He  refuses  to  answer  their 
prayers !  Ought  they  not  to  acknowledge  that  it  is  their  sins  which 
have  formed  a  thick  cloud  between  Heaven  and  them,  and  that  God 
has  justly  hidden  Himself  from  them  ?  How  often  has  He  recalled 
113  from  our  wanderings  !  How  often,  ungrateful  as  we  are,  have  we 
been  deaf  to  His  voice,  and  insensible  to  His  goodness !     He  would 


104  p:fiN]6L0N. 

make  us  feel  that  we  are  blind  and  miserable  when  we  forsake  Him. 
He  would  teach  us,  by  privation,  the  value  of  the  blessings  that  we 
have  slighted.  And  shall  we  not  bear  our  punishment  with  patience  ? 
Who  can  boast  of  having  done  all  that  he  ought  to  have  done ;  of 
having  repaired  all  his  past  errors ;  of  having  purified  his  heart,  so 
that  he  may  claim  as  a  right  that  God  should  listen  to  his  prayer  ? 
Most  truly,  all  our  pride,  great  as  it  is,  would  not  be  sufficient  to  in- 
spire such  presumption !  If  then,  the  Almight}^  do  not  grant  our 
petitions,  let  us  adore  His  justice,  let  us  be  silent,  let  us  humble  our- 
selves, and  let  us  pray  without  ceasing.  This  humble  perseverance 
will  obtain  from  Him  what  we  should  never  obtain  by  oar  own 
merit.  It  will  make  us  pass  happily  from  darkness  to  light  •,  for 
know,  says  St.  Augustin,  that  God  is  near  to  us  even  when  He  ap- 
pears far  from  us. 

6.  We  should  pray  with  a  2^ure  intention.  We  should  not  mingle 
in  our  prayers  what  is  false  with  what  is  real ;  what  is  perishable 
with  what  is  eternal ;  low  and  temporal  interests,  with  that  which 
concerns  our  salvation.  Do  not  seek  to  render  God  the  protector  of 
your  self-love  and  ambition,  but  the  promoter  of  your  good  desires. 
You  ask  for  the  gratification  of  your  passions,  or  to  be  delivered 
from  the  cross,  of  which  He  knows  you  have  need.  Carry  not  to 
the  foot  of  the  altar  irregular  desires,  and  indiscreet  prayers.  Sigh 
not  there  for  vain  and  fleeting  pleasures.  Open  your  heart  to  your 
Father  in  heaven,  that  His  Spirit  may  enable  you  to  ask  for  the 
true  riches.  How  can  He  grant  you,  says  St.  Augustin,  what  you 
do  not  yourself  desire  to  receive  ?  You  pray  every  day  that  His 
will  may  be  done,  and  that  His  kingdom  may  come.  How  can  you 
utter  this  prayer  with  sincerity  when  you  prefer  your  own  will  to 
His,  and  make  His  law  yield  to  the  vain  pretexts  with  which  your 
self-love  seeks  to  elude  it  ?  Can  you  make  this  prayer — ^you  who 
disturb  His  reign  in  your  heart  by  so  many  impure  and  vain  de- 
sires ? — you,  in  fine,  who  fear  the  coming  of  His  reign,  and  do  nat 
desire  that  God  should  grant  what  you  seem  to  pray  for  ?  Ko !  if 
He,  at  this  moment,  were  to  offer  to  give  you  a  new  heart,  and  ren- 
der you  humble,  and  meek,  and  self-denying,  and  willing  to  bear  the 
cross,  your  pride  would  revolt,  and  you  would  not  accept  the  offer ; 
or  you  would  make  a  reservation  in  favor  of  your  ruling  passion, 
and  try  to  accommodate  your  piety  to  your  humor  and  fancies ! 


DISCOURSE    FIFTY-FIRST. 

JAQUES    ABBADIE,    D.D. 

Tins  distinguished  Protestant  divine  was  born  at  Nai',  near  to  Pan,  in 
Beam,  in  the  year  1654.  Having  been  thoroughly  educated  in  the 
University,  he  was  ordained  i')astor  of  the  French  church,  at  Berlin, 
where  his  influence  became  great,  and  especially  beneficial  to  the  refugees 
who  fled  thither  from  the  persecution  of  Louis  XIV.  In  the  summer 
of  1689  he  visited  Ireland,  where  he  was  made  minister  of  the  Savoy, 
and  afterward  advanced  to  the  deanery  of  Killaloe.  He  died  m  1727. 
The  works  of  Dr.  Abbadie  arc  numerous,  the  most  celebrated  of  which 
are  "  The  Art  of  Knowig  One's  self,"  a  treatise  on  the  "  Divmity  of 
Christ,"  and  one  on  the  "  Truth  of  the  Christian  Religion."  Of  the  sec- 
'ond  of  these,  Booth  says,  "  Few  have  repelled  the  adversary  witli  those 
powers  of  genius,  and  that  force  of  argument,  which  were  employed  by 
Dr.  Abbadie  in  composing  this  admirable  treatise."  Of  the  latter  many 
critics  and  able  ^Titers,  both  CathoUc  and  Protestant,  have  spoken  with 
adiuiration.  The  celebrated  Marchioness  de  Sevigne  says,  "It  is  the 
most  divine  of  all  books :  this  estimate  is  general.  I  do  not  believe  that 
any  writers  have  described  religion  like  this  man." 

Dr.  Abbadie  ahvays  passed  for  one  of  the  first  preachers  of  his  time. 
His  sermons  discover  order  and  fitness  in  their  arrangement,  and  great 
sohdity  and  force  of  persuasion.  They  also  bear  obvious  traces  of  a  fine 
and  far-reaching  imagination,  and  a  great  Master,  who  designs  and  exe- 
cutes with  dignity  and  spirit.  They  are  contained  in  three  volumes 
12mo.,  and  are  very  rarely  met  with.  It  is  much  to  be  desired  that  they 
were  rendered  available  to  the  English  reader  by  a  translation.  All 
will  concur  in  this  opinion  who  read  the  follo-sving  masterly  production. 


THE  SACEIFICE  OF  ABRAHAM. 

"  And  Abraham  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  took  the  knife  to  slay  his  son." — Gen. 
xxiL  10. 

"  The  wicked  worketh  a  deceitful  work."     This  is  a  maxim  of 
the  wise  man,  which  we  explained  to  you  last  Sunday.     The  right- 


106  JAQUES    ABBADIE. 

eous  also  sometimes  does  a  work  wliicli  deceives  him.  This  is  a 
truth  which  we  are  going  to  exhibit  to  day.  The  wicked  destroys 
himself  by  the  efforts  which  he  employs  to  promote  his  own  gratifi- 
cation. The  believer  attains  an  invaluable  object  when  he  seems  to 
act  against  his  own  interest.  This,  my  brethren,  is  a  truth  which 
the  sacrifice  of  Abraham  admirably  confirms  :  here  we  find  a  spec- 
tacle of  horror  in  appearance  ;  and  we  see  a  holy  spectacle  in  reality. 
It  seems,  on  beholding  this  object,  as  if  hell  must  surely  triumph ; 
and  it  is  heaven  which  finally  vanquishes.  An  action  which  we 
should  suppose  all  must  detest,  becomes  the  eternal  object  of  their 
admiration.  The  pulpits  propose  it  for  a  model  and  an  example.  The 
memory  of  it  is  celebrated  in  all  ages ;  and  all  believers,  to  the  end 
of  time,  must  make  it  the  perpetual  subject  of  conversation,  the  con- 
stant theme  of  their  praise.  It  is,  then,  not  without  cause,  that  we 
ask  of  3^ou  to  apply  yourselves  to  the  consideration  of  this  sublime 
object,  "And  Abraham,"  says  the  sacred  text,  "  stretched  forth  his 
hand,  and  took  the  knife  to  slay  his  son." 

It  is  useless  to  relate  to  you  the  account  which  is  contained  in  the 
preceding  verses.  It  is  a  history  too  well  known  for  any  of  you  to 
be  ignorant  of  it.  You  know  that  God,  wishing  to  try  Abraham, 
commanded  him  to  take  his  son,  and  go  and  sacrifice  him  u]3on  a 
mountain,  of  which  he  would  tell  him.  You  know,  also,  that  this 
great  and  illustrious  servant  of  God  obeyed  the  voice  of  heaven,  and 
took  two  of  his  young  men  to  attend  him  in  his  journey — that  being 
arrived  near  the  place  where  his  faith  must  be  thus  tried,  he  ordered 
his  servants  to  vv^ait  for  him  while  he  went  forward  accompanied 
only  b}^  his  son — that  Isaac,  little  instructed  in  his  design,  asked 
him — "  Where  is  the  lamb  for  the  burnt-ofifering  ?"  To  which  Abra- 
ham replied — "My  son,  God  will  provide  Himself  a  lamb  for  a 
burnt-offering;"  which  afterward  occasioned  this  proverb  known 
among  the  Jews,  "  In  the  mount  of  the  Lord  it  shall  be  seen  ;"  and 
on  account  of  which  this  mountain  was  called  after  the  event,  by  the 
name  of  Moriah.  You  know  that  Abraham,  having  prepared  the 
altar  and  laid  the  wood  in  order,  took  the  submissive,  the  obedient, 
the  innocent  Isaac — that  he  bound  him,  and  fastened  him  to  the  al- 
tar ;  and  that  finally  he  prepared  to  finish  the  most  sorrowful  and 
painful  sacrifice  of  which  the  imagination  can  conceive.  It  is  this 
last  circumstance,  my  brethren,  which  supposes  all  the  others,  and 
which  constitutes  the  essential  part  of  that  sacrifice  which  we  must 
now  examine.  "And  Abraham,"  says  the  Scripture,  "stretched 
forth  his  hand,  and  took  the  knife  to  slay  his  son." 

Although  these  words  are  sufficiently  plain  in  themselves,  it  may 


THE    SACRIFICE    OF    ABRAHAM.  107 

not  be  unprofitable  to  devote  a  portion  of  time  to  their  contempla- 
tion ;  that  we  may  understand  the  mysteries  which  they  include,  and 
the  fruits  which  we  may  derive  from  them.  They  are  capable  of 
three  different  senses — a  literal  sense,  a  mystical  sense,  and  a  moral 
sense.  The  first  relates  to  the  simple  facts  which  they  narrate  ;  the 
second  includes  the  mysteries  which  they  represent;  the  third  com- 
municates instruction  to  our  consciences.  The  sacrifice  of  Abraham 
is  a  singular  and  astonishing  event,  which  is  highly  worth}^  of  our 
consideration.  The  sacrifice  of  Abraham  is  an  admirable  type  of 
the  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christy  which  we  can  not  describe  to  jou  under 
too  many  images.  The  sacrifice  of  Abraham  is  a  model  from  which 
we  may  form  the  desire  of  sacrificing  to  God  whatever  is  most  dear 
to  us ;  a  duty  upon  which  we  can  not  bestow  too  mach  attention. 
These  are  the  three  parts  of  this  discourse.  The  first  will  show  you 
Abraham  lifting  the  knife  to  plunge  it  into  the  bosom  of  his  son ; 
the  second  will  show  you  God  Himself,  Avith  uplifted  arm,  iuflicting 
His  strokes  upon  His  eternal  Son,  conformably  to  that  ancient  type  ; 
the  third  will  show  you  the  believer  holding  in  his  hand  the  sword 
of  the  Spirit,  and  sacrificing  the  dearest  passions  of  his  heart.  You 
will  see  in  the  first  a  material  fire  ready  to  consume  Isaac,  the  burnt- 
offering  of  Abraham  ;  you  Avill  see  in  the  second  the  fires  of  Divine 
justice  surrounding  Jesus  Christ,  the  burnt-offering  of  God ;  you 
will  see  in  the  last  the  sacred  fire  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  consuming 
the  vices  and  passions  of  our  hearts,  the  burnt-offering  of  the  be- 
liever. 

0  that  our  hearts,  inflamed  with  this  Divine  fire,  and  burning 
with  zeal,  may  present  themselves  to-day  as  so  many  voluntary  vic- 
tims to  that  great  God,  who  calls  them  to  mortification  and  to  repent- 
ance !  0  that  the  Father  of  believers  may  to-day  add  largely  to  the 
number  of  His  children,  through  the  immolation  of  His  Son !  0 
that  grace  may  render  Him  our  Father,  though  the  connection  seems 
to  have  ceased  by  nature !  0  that  heaven,  which  arrested  the  arm 
that  Abraham  had  already  lifted  up  with  so  much  resolution  and 
courage,  may  to-day  animate  and  sustain  our  arms,  to  enable  us  to  sac- 
rifice to  God  our  sins  and  our  vices !  O  that  we  may  to-day  become 
so  many  innocent  Isaacs !  O  that  we  may  be  changed  into  so  many 
courao-eous  Abrahams !  But  this  is  not  our  work,  it  is  the  work  of 
God ;  let  us  beseech  Him  to  animate  and  encourage  us,  that  we  may 
sacrifice  ourselves  to  Him,  at  the  sight  of  the  sacrifice  of  Abraham ; 
and  that  after  being  immolated,  like  Isaac,  we  may  revive  and  be 
able  to  glorify  Him  in  our  bodies  and  our  souls  eternally.    Amen. 


108  JAQUES    ABBADIE. 

First  Part. — That  we  may  properly  ascertain  the  extent  of 
Abraham's  virtue,  we  must  consider  the  relative  situation  in  which 
he  is  placed  at  this  critical  period.  Abraham  is  a  man ;  he  is  a 
father ;  he  adds  faith  to  the  promises  which  God  has  already  given 
him,  and  he  is  filled  with  love  and  zeal  for  his  God.  The  action 
which  he  is  called  to  perform,  by  an  order  from  heaven,  seems 
to  violate  all  these  relations,  and  absolutely  to  annihilate  these  quali- 
ties. Abraham  finds  that  all  the  affections  of  the  man,  all  the  ten- 
derness of  the  father,  the  confidence  and  faith  of  the  believer,  the 
love  and  zeal  of  a  saint,  are  opposed  to  his  design  of  offering  up 
his  son.  Humanity  shudders  at  this  bloody  spectacle ;  nature  abhors 
it ;  faith  seems  to  resist  it.  Zeal  and  love  for  God  can  not  endure 
the  idea  of  it.  Let  us  examine  these  four  conflicts,  which  terminate 
in  four  crowns  for  our  triumphant  patriarch. 

Human  nature  beholds  the  ordinary  death  of  man  only  with 
pain ;  but  it  looks  upon  their  bloody  death  with  peculiar  repug- 
nance. That  horror  which  our  nature  feels  at  human  bloodshed,  has 
even  attached  a  kind  of  infamy  to  the  j^rofession  of  those  Avho  exe- 
cute the  most  righteous  decrees,  and  who  punish  the  guilty.  How 
much  greater,  then,  is  this  infamy  when  innocent  blood  is  spilled  ? 
When  any  one,  impelled  by  the  violence  of  passion,  commits  a  mur- 
der, he  draws  down  upon  himself  the  hatred  of  heaven  and  earth. 
And  what  is  it  but  murder  to  sacrifice  a  man  in  cold  blood,  after 
three  days'  deliberation,  after  an  example  of  obedience  and  con- 
stancy so  rare  as  that  of  this  man  who  presents  himself  to  be  immo- 
lated? Yet  Abraham,  a  man,  perceives  nothing  which  does  not 
move  him  to  compassion,  Abraham,  a  father,  feels  nothing  which 
does  not  plead  with  him  in  favor  of  his  son.  His  interest  stands 
opposed  to  this  sorrowful  sacrifice.  He  has  been  accustomed  to  view 
Isaac  as  the  support  of  his  life,  and  he  must  now  devote  him  to  death. 
His  regard  for  the  honor  of  his  character  can  not  allow  him  to  con- 
sent. The  death  of  his  son  will  fix  an  eternal  stigma  on  his  memory. 
He  has  hitherto  been  an  example  of  justice  and  of  piety,  beloved 
by  his  neighbors,  and  respected  by  the  nations  among  whom  he 
has  sojourned;  and  this  action  is  going  to  render  him  odious  to  the 
whole  world.  He  will  draw  down  upon  himself  the  hatred  and  im- 
precations of  all  mankind.  All  nations  and  all  ages  will  regard 
him  as  an  assassin  of  his  own  son ;  as  an  enemy  of  his  own  bowels, 
who  pretended  to  murderous  revelations,  and  a  cruel  piety,  to  com- 
mit a  crime  which  nature  and  reason  detest. 

If  these  reasons  are  powerful,  the  voice  of  paternal  afiection, 
which  speaks  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  is  yet  more  so.     It  is 


THE    SACRIFICE    OF    ABRAHAM.  109 

difficult  to  conceive  wliat  must  be  the  emotions  of  liis  breast,  at  the 
sight  of  a  victim  so  dear  and  so  precious.  This  is  the  fruit  of  his 
loins.  He  received  him  from  heaven,  by  a  miracle,  in  an  advanced 
old  age,  and  when  the  years  of  Sara  no  longer  allowed  him  to  encour- 
age this  hope.  God  had  tried  him  by  keeping  him  long  in  a  state 
of  suspense.  He  had  solemnized  the  birth  of  this  son  by  public 
marks  of  joy.  He  had  abandoned  Ishmael  and  his  mother  for  the 
love  he  bare  to  him.  He  had  brought  him  up  with  tender  and  anx- 
ious care.  His  soul  was  cemented  to  that  of  his  son,  and  he  saw  him- 
self living  again  in  his  person.  Isaac,  under  the  blessing  of  heaven, 
inherited  the  virtues  of  his  father.  Never  was  more  respect  and  obe- 
dience discoverable  than  in  this  beloved  son ;  and  never  did  the 
affection  of  a  tender  father  appear  to  be  so  just  and  so  reasonable. 

In  fine,  the  soul  of  Abraham  is  occupied  only  with  thoughts  of 
his  Isaac,  and  his  heart  is  engaged  only  on  schemes  and  projects  of 
paternal  love.  He  would  have  trembled  at  the  least  danger  menac- 
ing the  life  of  his  son,  were  not  his  heart  encouraged  by  reflecting 
on  the  promises  of  Grod.  But  he  has  no  reason  to  apprehend  that 
any  accident  will  take  from  him  a  child  whom  heaven  has  miracu- 
lously given.  He  employs  himself  in  returning  thanks  to  God  for 
a  present  which  he  values  so  highly ;  nor  does  he  think  he  can  suffi- 
ciently express  his  gratitude — when,  suddenly,  his  ears  are  struck 
with  these  words:  ^^  Ahraham,  take  now  thy  son,  thine  only  son,  Isaac, 
whom  thou  lovest,  and  get  thee  into  the  land  of  Moriah  ;  and  offer  him 
there  for  a  huimt-offering  upon  one  of  the  mountains  which  I  loill  tell 
thee  ofr 

If  it  is  possible,  brethren,  only  imagine  the  agitation  and  trem- 
bling of  Abraham,  on  hearing  these  words,  so  extraordinary  and  so 
unexpected !  And  permit  me,  for  a  moment,  to  give  utterance  in  your 
presence,  to  the  heart  of  this  patriarch.  "  Is  it  ^"  says  he,  "  Am  I 
Abraham  ?  Is  that  the  voice  of  my  God  which  I  have  heard  ?  Is 
it  my  son  that  it  demands  of  me  ?  What !  my  son,  my  son  Isaac,  my 
only  son,  my  joy,  my  consolation — shall  I  see  thee  stretched  upon  a 
pile  ?  shall  I  bind  thee  myself,  and  shall  I  imbrue  my  hands  in  thy 
blood  ?  Is  this  the  fruit  of  thy  obedience,  and  of  the  tenderness  I 
have  had  for  thee  ?  If  it  be  necessary  to  make  such  a  sacrifice,  is 
there  no  other  priest  to  be  found  for  the  task  than  myself?  Can 
not  my  son  die  without  being  slain  by  the  hand  of  his  father  1  0, 
my  son  !  must  I  mingle  my  tears  with  thy  blood  ?  Must  I  tear  out 
my  own  bowels  ?  Is  it  my  God  who  gives  the  command  ?  And 
can  God  command  me  to  commit  a  crime  ?  Is  not  Isaac  the  found- 
ation of  His  promises?     Is  it  not  in  Isaac  that  I  am  the  father  of 


110  JAQUES    ABBADIE. 

many  nations?  Shall  I  immolate  my  son,  wlio  is  a  surety  for 
tlie  fidelity  of  my  God,  and  a  precious  pledge  of  the  truth  of  his 
promises  ?  What  will  become  of  my  faith  ?  What  will  become  of  the 
glory  of  God  whom  I  serve  ?  Will  not  the  nations  have  reason  to 
blaspheme  the  name  of  that  God  ? — That  great  and  adorable  name 
will  be  held  in  execration  by  all  the  people  of  the  earth.  O,  if  this 
should  be  the  consequence,  I  would  rather  perish  m3^self  with  my 
son !  Let  my  God  lanch  His  thunders  upon  this  mountain,  and  let 
Him  reduce  me  and  my  son  to  powder,  rather  than  that  my  obe- 
dience should  bring  such  dishonor  upon  His  sacred  name  !  I  will 
rcD  ounce  myself,  O  God,  but  I  can  not  renounce  the  zeal  that  ani- 
mates me  for  Thy  glory  !  I  will  sacrifice  my  son  to  Thee,  I  will  sac- 
rifice myself;  but  I  can  not  sacrifice  Thine  interests,  which  are  dearer 
to  me  than  my  own  life,  and  the  life  of  my  son !  Thy  glory  restrains 
me !  Thy  holy  name  arrests  me ! — But  have  I  forgotten  that  I  am  but 
dust  and  ashes,  that  I  should  speak  thus  to  my  Creator  ?  His  un- 
derstanding is  infinite,  and  mine  is  restricted.  Isaac  will  receive 
death  from  the  hand  of  his  father,  but  was  it  not  from  the  bosom 
of  nothing  and  of  death,  that  it  pleased  God  to  bring  him  into  life  ? 
Was  he  not  conceived  in  a  womb  which  old  age  had  already  dead- 
ened ?  Is  God  less  able  to  raise  him  from  the  tomb,  than  He  was  to 
draw  him  from  nothing  ?  Is  it  becoming  in  me  to  refuse  my  son  to 
that  great  God,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  whatever  I  am,  and 
whatever  I  possess  ?  K  He  will  have  the  life  of  my  son,  is  He  not 
sufiiciently  powerful  to  take  it?  and  am  I  strong  enough  to  prevent 
Him  ? — No !  no !  I  return  from  my  wanderings.  My  faith  can  not 
be  more  enlightened  than  that  of  Him  who  gave  it  birth ;  nor  do  I 
know  the  interests  of  God  better  than  God  Himself  I  will  content 
myself  with  glorifying  Him  by  my  obedience.  Since  He  has  raised 
me  above  all  men  on  the  earth,  by  the  blessings  which  He  has  con- 
ferred upon  me,  I  must  rise  above  the  reasonings  and  common  weak- 
nesses of  men,  to  do  what  He  commands  me.  0  God !  I  sacrifice  to 
Thee  my  son,  in  spite  of  nature,  and  the  blood  that  curdles  round 
my  heart !  I  immolate  to  Thee  my  joy  and  my  hopes  !  It  is  my 
heart  that  I  offer  to  Thee,  upon  this  gloomy  pile  !  My  heart  is  the 
burnt-offering  which  I  readily  present  to  Thee,  in  spite  of  my  Aveak- 
ness,  and  which  I  am  about  to  slay !" 

Thus  we  may  suppose  that  Abraham  spoke,  while  his  arm  was 
already  stretched  out  to  slay  his  son.  His  faith  and  zeal  overcame 
every  other  sentiment.  There  were  in  Abraham  two  men,  two  un- 
derstandings, two  wills :  the  man  of  God  and  the  natural  man  ;  the 
old  man  and  the  new  man ;  the  will  of  the  flesh  and  the  will  of  the 


THE    SACRIFICE    OF    ABRAHAM.  m 

Spirit ;  reason  and  faitli ;  tlie  "understanding  of  the  man  and  tlie  un- 
derstanding of  tlie  believer.  Two  Abrahams  combatted  one  against 
the  other;  but  Divine  and  heavenly  principles  raise  him  far  above 
those  which  are  carnal  and  terrestrial.     Grace  triumphs  over  nature. 

Abraham  makes  a  double  sacrifice  to  God :  an  exterior  sacrifice 
upon  the  mountain,  and  an  interior  sacrifice  in  the  secret  of  his  soul. 
In  the  one  he  takes  his  son  and  binds  him :  in  the  other  he  immo- 
lates to  God  the  sentiments  of  his  soul.  Outwardly,  it  is  Isaac  who 
is  offered  up ;  inwardly  it  is  Abraham  who  suffers,  and  who  sacrifices 
himself.  Abraham  ascends  upon  a  mountain  to  finish  the  exterior 
sacrifice ;  the  heart  of  Abraham  rises  above  all  the  obstacles  of  the 
earth,  above  the  weaknesses  of  flesh  and  blood,  above  temporal  con- 
siderations ;  and  ascends  toward  God  to  accomplish  the  interior  sac- 
rifice. The  outward  sacrifice  is  staid,  only  because  the  sacrifice 
within  is  completed.  Isaac  rises  only  after  faith  has  immolated  Abra- 
ham. O,  my  brethren,  what  greatness,  what  elevation !  This  is  not 
alone  to  obtain  a  victory  over  the  weakness  of  his  heart ;  but  also  a 
triumph  over  the  most  legitimate  feelings  of  nature.  This  is  not 
merely  to  overcome  doubt  and  unbelief;  but  it  is  to  combat  a  reason 
which  reposes  upon  the  promises  of  God,  and  the  assurance  of  faith. 
This  is  not  a  conflict  of  the  affections  of  man  with  the  glory  and  the 
interests  of  God ;  it  is  a  conflict  in  which  paternal  tenderness,  and 
human  affection,  unite  themselves  with  the  glory  and  the  interests  of 
the  Deity. 

Behold  a  sacrifice  which  includes  all  others  !  Behold  a  man  who, 
by  one  oblation,  immolates  all  things  to  God !  He  sacrifices  to  Him 
his  wealth,  which  he  desired  only  for  the  sake  of  Isaac ;  his  joy,  which 
depended  upon  the  preservation  of  his  son ;  his  hopes,  which  rested 
upon  him ;  his  love  and  his  tenderness,  which  were  fixed  upon  this 
son ;  his  very  reason,  which  could  not  comprehend  the  meaning  of 
this  strange  sacrifice.     But  he  also  sacrifices  to  Him  something:  which 

o  O 

appears  to  be  more  considerable,  and  which  has  commonly  been 
dearer  to  the  hearts  of  men.  He  immolates  to  Him  a  sentiment,  to 
which  we  have  seen  the  most  illustrious  men  sacrifice  all  things. 
They  have  so  ardently  loved  that  glory  and  renown  which  accom- 
pany virtue,  that  they  have  renounced  all  other  advantages  to  be  able 
to  boast  that  they  possessed  this.  But  behold  a  man,  who,  in  obe- 
dience to  the  orders  of  heaven,  rejects,  despises,  and,  in  a  certain  sense, 
tramples  under  foot  that  glory,  that  eclat,  those  fine  names,  those 
honorable  titles  which  accompany  virtue  !  He  assumes  the  appear- 
ance of  a  criminal ;  he  is  willing  to  pass  for  a  murderer — the  mur- 
derer of  his  own  son!    It  seems  as  if  the  love  of  God,  which  trans- 


-|^22  JAQUES    ABBADIE. 

ports  liim,  and  tlie  zeal  wliicli  animates  liim,  change  the  nature  of 
things  upon  tins  mountain.  Sin  appears  to  be  no  more  sin.  Murder 
becomes  legitimate,  and  crime  demands  praise!  Why?  because  God 
alone  is  his  authority.  He  sees  none  but  God ;  he  hears  none  but 
God ;  he  recognizes  neither  vice  nor  virtue  but  in  relation  to  God. 

True  elevation  of  an  holy  soul !  Sublime  impulse  of  a  heart  in- 
spired with  zeal  for  God !  Human  virtues  are  only  efforts  which 
we  make  to  sacrifice  our  passions  and  self-love,  that  we  may  exalt 
ourselves — efforts  which  do  not  prevent  us  from  returning  again  to 
ourselves.  But  Abraham  goes  out  of  himself,  and  rises  indeed  to 
God !  Never  did  the  Deity  regard  a  sacrifice  with  so  much  pleasure 
— never  did  heaven  behold  so  delightful  a  spectacle  ! 

But  yet  this  is  not  the  greatest  object  which  our  faith  discovers 
here.  It  is  not  the  sacrifice  of  Abraham  which  demands  our  highest 
admiration.  There  is  yet  something  remaining,  more  worthy  of  his 
attention  and  of  ours.  He  is  now  u.pon  mount  Moriah  ;  but  let  him 
only  lift  up  his  eyes,  and  he  shall  behold  the  mount  of  Calvary. 
His  son  will  discover  to  him  his  Saviour.  The  arm  which  he  has 
lifted  up,  will  show  him  the  arm  of  God  raised  against  the  victim  of 
the  human  race ;  and  he  will  find  an  adorable  mystery  which  saves 
him,  in  that  strange  sacrifice  which  has  excited  all  the  tender  feelings 
of  his  heart. 

Second  Pakt. — In  fact,  my  brethren,  the  sacrifice  of  Abraham 
has  been  handed  down  to  us,  as  a  great  and  splendid  type  of  the 
sacrifice  of  the  cross.  Abraham  immolates  his  only  son.  God  also 
sacrifices  His  only  Son.  You  see  on  Moriah  a  murder  in  appear- 
ance, which  conceals  a  sacrifice  in  effect.  On  the  mount  of  Calvary 
you  find  an  oblation,  where  you  only  thought  you  beheld  an  execrable 
murder.  The  victim  of  Abraham  has  received  existence  by  a  miracle ; 
Isaac  was  conceived  in  the  womb  of  a  barren  woman.  The  victim 
of  God  has  come  into  the  world  by  a  birth  yet  more  miraculous ; 
Jesus  Christ  was  conceived  in  the  womb  of  a  virgin.  Isaac  is  rep- 
resented to  us  as  an  innocent  and  submissive  victim,  who  does  not 
murmur  even  when  his  father  stretches  out  his  arm  to  sacrifice  him. 
Jesus  Christ  was  "  holy,  harmless,  undefiled,  and  separate  from  sin- 
ners;" He  was  "led  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter."  Abraham  has 
already  seized  the  knife,  and  is  about  to  plunge  it  into  the  bosom  of 
his  son,  without  having  lost  any  of  the  tenderness  which  he  has 
always  had  for  him.  The  Eternal  Father  lays  His  strokes  upon  His 
Son,  who  has  ever  been  the  object  of  His  delight,  and  in  whom  He 
has  always  taken  the  highest  pleasure,     Isaac,  the  foundation  of  the 


THE    SACRIFICE    OF    ABRAHAM.  113 

promises  of  God,  on  whose  life  depended  the  hopes  of  the  Church, 
and  who  seemed  to  include  in  himself  all  the  benedictions  of  God,  is 
about  to  be  sacrificed  upon  a  mountain,  and  even  by  the  order  of 
God.  But  what  a  wonder !  Jesus  Christ,  the  Messiah,  the  Eedeemer 
of  Israel,  He  who  must  bring  deliverance  to  Jacob,  and  who  is  only 
sent  into  the  world  to  free  him  from  his  sins — that  Jesus  who,  so  to 
speak,  holds  in  His  hands  all  the  graces  and  all  the  benedictions  of 
heaven — is  about  to  suffer  death ;  and  even  by  the  eternal  counsel 
of  God! 

Who  is  not  surprised,  also,  at  this  event  ?  Isaac,  reviving,  as  it 
were,  after  his  sacrifice,  and  in  a  certain  sense  arising  from  under  the 
knife  which  his  father  had  already  suspended  over  him,  leaves  a 
posterity  numerous  as  the  stars  of  heaven,  and  as  the  sand  on  the  sea- 
shore, in  which  are  accomplished  the  promises  and  the  oracles  of  God. 
Jesus  Christ,  really  restored  to  life  after  the  sacrifice  of  His  body, 
and  rising  gloriously  after  His  death,  beholds  an  infinite  number  of 
His  children  and  disciples  who  follow  Him,  and  whom  He  renders 
partakers  of  all  the  graces,  and  of  all  the  blessings  of  heaven ;  ac- 
according  to  that  ancient  prediction,  "  When  thou  shalt  make  His 
soul  an  offering  for  sin,  He  shall  see  His  seed,  He  shall  prolong  His 
days,  and  the  pleasure  of  the  Lord  shall  prosper  in  His  hand." 

Behold  the  agreement  which  subsists  between  these  two  sacrifices, 
and  which  obliges  us  to  consider  one  of  these  objects  in  the  other, 
as  in  the  most  perfect  type.  But  behold  the  difference  which  dis- 
tinguishes them,  and  which  discovers  to  us  how  much  the  image 
sinks  below  the  original ! 

Go  to  Moriah,  and  you  will  find  there  a  victim  who  follows  the 
priest  without  knowing,  at  first,  whither  he  is  going,  and  who  asks  his 
father,  "  Where  is  the  lamb  for  a  burnt-offering  ?"  Turn  your  eye 
toward  Calvary,  and  you  will  see  Jesus  Christ  who  exposes  Himself 
voluntarily  to  the  sword  of  His  Father,  and  who,  perfectly  acquainted 
with  His  destiny,  says  to  Him,  "  Lo,  I  come  to  do  Thy  will,  0  God." 
There  angels  are  sent  from  heaven  to  arrest  the  arm  of  Abraham ; 
Here  devils  issue  from  hell  to  hasten  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ.  In 
the  sacrifice  of  Isaac,  the  fire,  the  knife,  the  sacrificer  are  visible,  but 
the  victim  does  not  at  first  appear.  In  the  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ, 
the  victim  appears  first,  but  the  knife,  which  is  the  sword  of  Divine 
justice,  and  the  fire,  which  consists  in  the  ardor  of  His  wrath  and 
judgments,  are  invisible,  are  only  seen  by  the  eyes  of  faith.  Upon 
the  mountain  of  Moriah,  Abraham  sacrifices  his  son  to  his  Master,  to 
his  Benefactor,  to  his  Creator,  to  his  God.  Upon  the  mount  of  Cal- 
vary, God  immolates  His  Son  for  the  salvation  of  men,  who  are 


114  JAQUES    ABBADIE, 

nothing  but  meanness,  misery,  and  corruption.  There  Abraliam 
renounces  his  blood  and  himself  to  obey  a  God  who  can  amply 
reward  him  for  his  loss.  Here  God  gives  what  He  esteems  the  most 
precious  to  save  men,  who  have  not  even  the  means  of  so  much  as 
expressing  their  gratitude,  and  who  could  not  find  it  in  their  own 
bosoms  to  do  it.  There  we  see  one  who  is  but  dust  and  ashes,  mak- 
ing a  sacrifice  to  God  of  what  he  received  from  Him.  Here  we  see 
the  Deity  sacrificing  the  object  of  His  eternal  affection  and  de- 
light— His  treasure — His  Son — for  the  salvation  of  dust  and  ashes. 
In  fine,  in  the  one,  is  a  man  who  is  sacrificed  to  God' — in  the  other, 
is  a  God  who  is  sacrificed  for  man. 

Here  flesh  and  blood  must  be  silent,  and  cease  to  murmur.  Abra- 
ham does  infinitely  less  for  God,  than  God  had  done  for  Abraham. 
He  presents  his  son — ^he  binds  to  slay  him.  But  God  had  already 
slain  His  Son  for  the  salvation  of  Abraham ;  for  this,  in  the  language 
of  Scripture,  is  the  "Lamb  slain  before  the  foundation  of  the  world." 
Heaven  has  therefore  prevented  the  earth.  And  does  Abraham, 
then,  exalt  himself  by  this  action  ?  No ;  he  remains  profoundly 
abased  before  his  Creator.  Does  he  not  attempt  to  justify  himself 
before  God  ?  No  ;  but  he  lays  himself  under  new  obligations.  He 
receives  all  from  God,  when  he  seems  to  give  up  all  to  God ;  since  the 
father  and  the  son.  the  priest  and  the  victim,  have  no  real  existence 
save  in  the  regard  that  God  already  had  to  the  sacrifice  of  the  cross. 
Had  not  God  already  sacrificed  His  Son  for  the  salvation  of  Abra- 
ham, Abraham  would  not  have  been  in  a  condition  to  sacrifice  his 
son  to  God.  It  is  the  efiicacy  of  the  blood  which  Jesus  had  shed, 
that  gives  strength  to  Abraham,  to  raise  the  arm  that  he  may  shed 
his  own  blood.  The  virtue  and  the  zeal  which  are  so  illustriously 
displayed  upon  the  mountain  of  Moriah,  have  their  source  and  sub- 
stance upon  the  mount  of  Calvary.  Thus,  my  brethren,  the  sacri- 
fice of  Jesus  Christ  is  found  in  the  sacrifice  of  Isaac ;  the  saciifice 
of  Isaac  in  its  accomplishment  in  its  tj^pe,  is  found  in  the  sacri- 
fice of  Jesus  Christ.  From  the  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ,  proceed 
the  strength  and  virtue  which  inspire  Abraham ;  from  the  sacri- 
fice of  Abraham,  proceeds  the  light  which  discovers  the  sacrifice 
of  Jesus  Christ.  But  both  must  be  found  in  the  sacrifice  of  our 
hearts,  which  is  their  legitimate  and  natural  end.  This  is  the 
third  object  of  our  meditation,  with  which  we  purpose  to  finish  this 
discourse. 

Third  Paet. — It  is  very  proper  that  we  should  admire  the  two 
great  objects  which  we  have  just  set  before  you ;  but  permit  us  to  say 


THE    SACRIFICE    OF    ABRAHAM.  II5 

that  tliis  admiration  will  be  wholly  useless,  unless  it  be  accompanied 
with  the  practice  of  those  duties  which  these  truths  enforce  upon 
us.  The  great  point  is,  to  draw  from  them  those  results  which 
may  influence  our  lives.  "We  must  now,  therefore,  dwell  for  a  few 
moments,  upon  the  sacrifice  of  ourselves.  In  effect,  the  words  of 
our  text  oblige  us  to  draw  four  conclusions.  Abraham  immolates 
to  God  his  only-begotten  son ;  we  ought,  then,  to  sacrifice  to  God 
whatever  is  most  dear  and  precious  to  us.  Abraham  hears  neither 
the  murmurs  nor  opposition  of  flesh  and  blood ;  he  does  not  even 
assign  any  of  those  reasons  which  seem  so  plausible,  and  which 
naturally  strike  the  mind,  to  jastify  him  in  dispensing  with  the 
commandment  of  God.  We  ought,  then,  to  renounce  all  those  vain 
reasonings  and  pretexts,  which  flesh  and  blood  employ,  to  prevent 
us  from  doing  whatever  God  commands.  Abraham  loses  no  time. 
No  sooner  does  he  hear  the  voice  of  God  directing  him,  than  he  sets 
out  on  his  journey ;  and  he  binds  his  son  immediately  when  he  has 
reached  the  destined  spot.  We  ought,  then,  to  render  to  God  a 
prompt  obedience.  We  must  not  look  behind,  but  we  must  glorify 
God  in  promptly  sacrificing  our  vices.  In  fine,  the  holy  j)atriarch 
neither  trembles  nor  wavers  when  he  is  commanded  to  sacrifice  his 
son ;  he  stretches  out  his  son,  and  seizes  the  knife.  We  ought  not, 
then,  to  content  ourselves  with  a  few  feeble  and  imperfect  dispositions 
of  a  pious  tendency,  which  we  may  feel  wdthin  us.  We  must  neither 
delay  nor  dissemble,  nor  lose  our  courage,  when  we  are  required  to 
renounce  our  vices  and  to  sacrifice  our  passions.  Four  truths  with 
which  our  text  furnishes  us,  for  the  instruction  of  our  consciences  ; 
and  upon  which  we  shall  do  well  to  meditate. 

1.  It  appears  that  the  commandment  which  God  gave  to  Abraham, 
was  a  mysterious  commandment.  In  exacting  this  sublime  effort  of 
virtue  from  the  father  of  the  faithful,  he  seems  to  have  described  the 
kind  of  sacrifice  which  He  should  demand  from  believers  in  future 
times.  Abraham  was  obliged  to  testify  his  faith  by  the  sacrifice  of 
his  son ;  true  believers,  under  the  Gospel,  are  obliged  to  testify  their 
faith  by  renouncing  themselves.  Jesus  Christ,  the  teacher  sent  from 
God,  instructs  them  that  they  must  "  hate  their  own  souls"  for  His 
sake;  that  they  must  "pluck  out  their  eyes  and  cut  off  their  hands," 
to  enter  into  the  celestial  kingdom  to  which  He  calls  them.  It  is 
true  these  words  are  figurative ;  but  they  are  not  the  less  forcible 
on  that  account,  since  the  Son  of  God  considered  this  truth  of  so 
much  importance,  that  He  chose  to  employ  the  most  hvely  expres- 
sions to  render  it  intelligible. 

But  to  confine  ourselves  to  the  ideas  in  our  text,  it  is  proper  to 


116  JAQUES    ABBADIE. 

remark  that  we  all  carry  about  witli  us  an  Isaac  iu  our  hearts ;  or 
rather,  that  there  are  three  Isaacs  in  every  one  of  us.  There  is  an 
Isaac  of  sin  ;  an  Isaac  of  nature ;  and  an  Isaac  of  grace.  The  first  we 
must  every  where,  and  at  all  times  sacrifice  to  God ;  the  second  we 
are  not  called  to  immolate  but  in  certain  circumstances;  and  the 
third  God  requires  that  we  always  spare. 

If  you  are  anxious  to  know  what  is  this  Isaac  of  sm,  ask  your 
heart,  what  is  the  vice  which  it  loves  ?  It  is  that  criminal  pleasure 
which  voluptuousness  promises  you.  It  is  that  cruel  satisfaction 
which  vengeance  gives  you.  It  is  that  malignant  joy  which  the  mis- 
fortunes of  others  produce  in  your  hearts,  and  of  which  you  dare  not 
make  a  public  avowal.  It  is  whatever  gives  a  relish  to  slander.  It 
is  that  fatal  and  worldly  joy  which  you  derive  from  the  human  pas- 
sions. It  is  the  pleasure  which  avarice,  pride,  and  ambition  con- 
fer. It  is,  in  fine,  the  fruit  which  you  think  that  you  derive  from 
all  the  sins  that  you  commit.  Can  we  hesitate  to  sacrifice  to  God 
this  Isaac  of  corruption,  when  we  see  Abraham  ofiering  up  his  Isaac 
— that  Isaac  the  object  of  his  tenderness — that  Isaac  whom  he 
loves?  Shall  we  love  vice  more  than  Abraham  loved  his  son?  If 
this  patriarch  binds  an  Isaac  whom  heaven  had  given  him,  shall  we 
fear  to  sacrifice  an  Isaac  which  hell  has  placed  in  our  hearts  ?  Can 
we  contemplate  Abraham  lifting  up  his  arm  to  destroy  the  work  of 
God,  at  the  Divine  command,  and  hesitate  one  moment  about  destroy- 
ing the  work  of  the  devil,  when  God  so  often  exhorts  us  to  it  ? 
Abraham  sacrifices  an  Isaac  who  is  the  foundation  of  all  the  promises 
of  God.  And  shall  not  we  put  that  Isaac  to  death,  who  is  the  founda- 
tion of  all  His  threatenings  ?  Abraham  is  going  to  slay  him  from 
whom  must  proceed  salvation  and  blessings  to  the  people.  And 
shall  not  we  sacrifice  that  idol,  which  eugenders  only  misery  and 
death  ? 

And,  my  brethren,  we  must  make  a  still  greater  sacrifice.  We  must 
sacrifice  to  God  that  Isaac  of  nature — that  innocent  Isaac  whom  we 
love  without  crime,  but  whom  we  can  not  refuse  to  God  without  in- 
gratitude. There  are  three  occasions  on  which  God  demands  from 
you  this  sacrifice.  They  are  the  times  of  sickness ;  the  season  of  ad- 
versity ;  and  the  day  of  death.  In  sickness  we  must  sacrifice  to  God 
the  complaints  and  murmurings  of  human  nature  ;  the  hope  of  health 
which  can  never  be  re-established ;  the  sight  of  friends  which  are 
about  to  be  taken  away  from  us.  In  adversity  we  must  sacrifice  to 
Him  the  good  things  which  we  justly  possessed,  and  which  we  pos- 
sess no  more.  Finally,  in  death,  we  must  make  a  voluntarj^  offer- 
ing of  all  that  we  are  to  leave  behind  us.     We  must  ofier  to  God 


THE    SACRIFICE    OF    ABRAHAM.  117 

relations,  friends,  estates,  riches,  grandeur,  the  care  of  our  children, 
the  preservation  of  our  families,  father  and  mother,  and  whatever 
we  possess.  For,  doubt  not,  my  brethren,  that  we  can  make  a  pres- 
ent to  God  of  things  that  we  no  longer  possess.  We  can  offer  Him 
whatever  we  lose,  without  fearing  that  He  will  refuse  it.  We  can 
sacrifice  to  Him  things  which  are  not  in  our  power.  This  is  the  ex- 
cellence and  the  wonderful  advantage  of  religion. 

We  give  to  God  whatever  we  cheerfully  relinquish  for  His  sake ; 
and  hence  we  place  ourselves  above  the  necessity  which  impels  us. 
But  this  can  only  be  done,  by  early  acquiring  an  holy  habitude  of  de- 
taching ourselves  from  the  world,  and  fixing  our  confidence  upon 
the  spiritual  good  which  God  has  promised.  This  sacrifice  must  be- 
gin during  fife,  and  terminate  at  death.  We  must  incessantly  sacri- 
fice ourselves  to  God;  by  submitting  without  complaint  to  the 
sacred  orderings  of  Providence ;  by  acquiescing  in  His  good  pleas- 
ure, in  all  things ;  and  by  humbly  receiving  the  good  and  the  evil, 
which  in  His  widom  He  is  pleased  to  dispense  to  us ;  being  always 
in  that  disposition  Avhich  led  Job  of  old  formerly  to  say,  "  The 
Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away ;  blessed  be  the  name  of 
the  Lord."  Finally,  we  must  renounce  our  reason,  our  desires,  and 
our  feelings,  when  the  renunciation  of  them  is  requisite  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  His  glory. 

2.  But  perhaps  you  will  say.  How  can  we  rise  thus  above  our- 
selves? Are  we  Abrahams,  that  we  should  sacrifice  ourselves  to 
God?  "  Are  we  Abrahams  !"  And  what  matters  it,  my  brethren, 
that  we  are  not  ?  Are  we  under  less  obligations  to  God  than  that 
ancient  patriarch?  Are  our  means  of  knowledge  less  than  his? 
Abraham  performs  this  action  without  an  example ;  but  we  have  the 
example  of  Abraham  before  our  eyes.  Abraham  only  knew  the 
Deity  through  the  mysterious  shadows  and  vails  with  which  He 
then  covered  Himself;  but  "  We  all  with  open  face  behold  as  in  a 
glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord."  Abraham  had  no  clear  and  distinct 
ideas  of  the  salvation  which  we  have  obtained  through  the  blood  of 
our  Lord ;  but  we  see  the  life,  glory,  and  immortality  which  are 
brought  to  light  by  Jesus  Christ. 

Shall  our  zeal,  then,  grow  colder,  because  grace  "  Hath  appeared 
unto  us  ?"  Shall  our  gratitude  diminish,  because  the  heavens  are 
opened  to  us  ?  Shall  we  discover  such  weakness,  because  we  are 
not  solitary  as  Abraham  was,  but  are  "  Encompassed  with  so  great  a 
cloud  of  witnesses"  who  encourage  us  by  their  example,  and  whom 
we  have  seen  pass  before  us — martyrs  for  God  in  this  career  of 


118  JAQUES    ABBADIE. 

blood  and  tears?  Shall  we  no  more  sacrifice  ourselves  for  God, 
since  the  Son  of  God  lias  sacrificed  Himself  for  ns? 

Or  rather  is  there  less  necessity  now  to  immolate  to  God  our  af- 
fections and  vices,  tlian  Abraham  formerly  had  to  sacrifice  his  son  ? 
Is  the  Yoice  from  heaven  now  silent  which  formerly  spake  to  this 
patriarch  ?  No,  it  speaks  to  us  in  a  variety  of  ways,  all  clear  and 
intelligible.  Do  you  suppose  that  the  oracle  of  Abraham  does  not 
address  us  ?  God  speaks  to  us  by  the  mouth  of  the  prophets  ;  He 
speaks  to  us  by  the  eternal  word.  He  speaks  to  us  by  the  wounds 
of  His  Son,  which  are  so  many  mouths  to  teach  us  our  duty.  He 
descends  in  tongues  of  fire  upon  the  Apostles,  to  speak  to  us  by 
their  ministry.  Every  day  He  employs  the  voice  of  His  servants  to 
speak  to  our  consciences ;  and  instead  of  one  command  which  He  ad- 
dressed formerly  to  Abraham,  He  addresses  to  you  an  infinity  of  ex- 
hortations, and  reiterates,  incessantly,  in  your  ears.  His  command  of 
death  to  sin,  and  renunciation  of  the  world.  How  blind  are  we,  my 
brethren,  if  we  yet  find  it  difiicult  to  understand  the  will  of  this 
great  God,  who  still  speaks  to  us,  and  if  we  do  not  yet  know  that 
we  must  take  up  our  cross  and  follow  Him ;  that  He  calls  us  all  to 
die,  to  hate  ourselves,  and  to  glorify  Him  by  a  prompt  renunciation 
of  the  desires  of  the  flesh,  and  the  delights  of  sin  ! 

My  dear  brethren,  we  are  sufiicieutly  acquainted  with  our  duty  ; 
but  the  self-love  and  cupidity  which  enslave  us,  find  a  thousand  pre- 
texts to  prevent  us  from  rendering  to  God  the  obedience  which  we 
owe  to  Him.  "  I  must  sacrifice  my  resentments  to  God  ;  I  know 
it ;" — we  say  in  the  recesses  of  our  hearts — "  but  I  am  cruelly  in- 
sulted ;  my  honor  is  at  stake."  As  if  in  making  a  sacrifice  to  God 
we  must  give  up  nothing!  "I  must  relinquish  this  object  of  sen- 
suality and  mirth  ;  but  the  inclination  which  draws  me  toward  it  is 
strong;  I  can  not  forsake  it.''  "I  must  renounce  the  world;  but  I 
must  also  imitate  its  customs,  and  live  as  others."  "  I  must  follow 
the  Saviour  who  proposes  Himself  as  an  example  to  us,  that  we 
should  tread  in  His  steps ;  but  shall  I  oppose  commonly  received 
practices,  and  expose  myself  to  the  shafts  of  satire  and  of  slander, 
by  an  unusual  course  of  conduct  ?"  Vain  pretexts  of  flesh  and  blood ! 
Eidiculous  and  miserable  evasions  of  an  heart  possessed  with  the 
world  and  its  vanities  !  Can  you  compare  these  empty  reasonings  with 
those  specious  and  plausible  pretexts  which  presented  themselves  to 
the  mind  of  Abraham  ?  Had  he  wished  to  dispense  with  the  obliga- 
tion of  obeying  his  God,  heaven  and  earth,  nature  and  religion,  fur- 
nished him  with  abundant  excuses ;  but  he  despises  every  thing  to 
obey  promptly  the  voice  of  his  God,  who  gives  him  the  command. 


THE    SACRIFICE    OP    ABRAHAM.  HQ 

The  love  of  the  world  which  is  in  us,  and  the  habit  which  we 
cherish  of  warmly  interesting  ourselves  in  the  affairs  of  this  life,  de- 
termine our  minds  to  take  the  part  of  the  Avorld,  and  to  seek  for 
false  reasons  to  dispense  with  banishing  it  from  our  hearts.  But 
were  we  accustomed  to  the  long  and  holy  habit  of  loving  our  God 
more  than  all  the  objects  of  this  life,  as  Abraham  was,  we  should 
take  the  part  of  God  against  the  world,  without  listening  to  the  lan- 
guage of  that  impostor,  who  only  makes  use  of  our  weakness,  our 
liesitations,  and  our  delays,  to  vanquish  us. 

3.  If  Abraham  had  indulged,  at  first,  too  much  complaisance  for 
the  feelings  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  the  tender  movements  of  his 
heart,  which  pleaded  with  him  in  behalf  of  Isaac,  he  would  have 
fallen  from  one  degree  of  weakness  to  another,  and  the  sight  of  his 
son  would  have  caused  the  knife  to  drop  from  his  hand :  and  then  his 
purpose  to  obey  God,  and  the  efforts  he  had  employed,  would  have 
been  of  no  avail ;  since  he  must  inevitably  have  been  guilty  of  re- 
bellion and  disobedience  in  the  sight  of  God.  Thus,  my  brethren, 
let  us  beware  that  we  cherish  none  of  those  cowardly  weaknesses, 
or  those  criminal  condescensions  to  our  passions,  which  leave  vice  to 
live  and  reign  in  our  hearts.  Let  us  arm  ourselves  with  a  holy 
severity  in  this  respect;  and  above  all,  let  us  hasten  to  profit  by  the 
good  dispositions  which  God  produces  in  our  hearts,  if  it  is  true  that 
we  are  to-day  moved  by  that  great  object  which  now  strikes  our 
eyes.  No  hesitation  !  no  delay ! — to-day — at  this  hour — this  moment, 
let  us  hear  the  voice  of  God,  let  us  not  harden  our  hearts !  Let  us 
imitate  the  holy  patriarch  in  the  fervor  and  promptitude  of  his  zeal ! 
Let  us  hasten  to  sacrifice  to  God  our  pride,  our  avarice,  our  volup- 
tuousness, our  ambition,  our  slander,  our  resentments,  our  doubts, 
our  complainings ! 

0  how  pleasant  an  odor  will  this  sacrifice  send  forth  before  God, 
who  regards  us  to-day,  and  who  perceives  the  bottom  of  our  thoughts 
and  hearts  !  0'  how  will  our  souls  be  filled  with  consolation  and 
joy,  if,  while  we  hear  the  voice  of  God,  and  faith  transports  us  to  the 
mount  Moriah,  we  sacrifice  ourselves  to  God  by  a  sincere  repent- 
ance, by  a  happy  separation  from  whatever  engages  our  affections 
and  by  a  prompt  renunciation  of  whatever  charms  our  hearts ! 

4.  Let  us  not  fear  to  renounce  whatever  is  dear  to  us ;  and  be 
well  assured  that  the  depravity  of  our  hearts  is  so  great,  that  if  we 
wish  to  know  what  are  our  most  fatal  attachments,  we  have  only  to 
examine  what  those  are,  which  inspire  us  with  most  joy  and  pleasure. 
Sin,  in  almost  every  case,  pleases  us  in  proportion  as  it  is  danger- 


120  JAQUES    ABBADIE. 

ous ;  and  we  may  say  in  almost  every  case  that  it  is  dangerous  in 
proportion  as  it  pleases  us. 

Do  not,  then,  spare  a  vice  because  it  is  the  delight  of  your  heart. 
Abraham  did  not  so  reflectrespecting  Isaac ;  and  why  should  you 
respecting  sin?  Whatever  in  your  souls  opposes  itself  to  the  glory 
of  God,  destroy  it ;  annihilate  it ;  sacrifice  it  to  Him  who  demands  it. 
Seize  the  victim !  Grasp  the  knife  1  Boldly  strike  the  blow !  Expect 
not  that  heaven  will  send  you  angels  to  interrupt  this  sacrifice !  They 
will  be  sent  only  to  exhort  you  to  finish  it!  And  heaven,  and  this 
pulpit,  will  never  address  to  you  any  other  language ! 

To-day,  then,  "  present  your  bodies  a  hving  sacrifice,  holy,  accept- 
able unto  God,  which  is  your  reasonable  service."  And  be  certain 
that  this  happy  annihilation  of  yourselves,  will  give  birth  to  the 
most  lively  hopes.  You  will  ascend  toward  God,  while  you  sacri- 
fice all  things  to  His  glory ;  and  God  will  descend  toward  you,  as  He 
came  in  olden  time  to  Abraham ;  and  will  say  to  you — "  Now  I 
know  that  thou  fearest  God!"  To  this  great  God,  the  Father,  Son, 
and  Holy  Spirit,  be  honor,  glory,  majesty,  and  dominion,  forever  and 
ever !     Amen. 


DISCOURSE    FIFTY.SECOND. 

DANIEL     DE     SUPERVILLE. 

SuPERviLLE  was  borii  at  Anjou,  in  the  month  of  August,  1657,  and 
educated  in  the  college  at  Saumur,  and  at  Geneva.  -  His  first  pastoral 
charge,  of  a  little  more  than  two  years,  was  at  Loudun,  where  he  ac- 
quired so  much  reputation  as  to  incur  the  malice  of  the  enemies  of 
Protestantism,  who  endeavored  in.  vain,  by  bringing  him  to  a  trial  for 
sedition,  at  Paris,  to  shake  his  faith.  At  the  revocation  of  the  Edict 
of  Nantes,  he  fled  to  Holland  and  took  up  his  residence  at  Rotterdam ; 
where  he  continued  to  exercise  the  functions  of  a  good  nimister  of  Jesus 
Christ,  till  prevented  by  the  advance  of  age.  He  died  the  9th  of  June, 
1728. 

Superville  was  ranked  among  the  most  eminent  ministers  of  his  day. 
His  powers  of  argument  and  effective  appeal  were  very  great.  His 
printed  sermons  were  widely  circulated,  and  generally  passed  rapidly 
through  several  editions,  upon  their  appearance.  The  criticism  of 
Doddridge  is  well  known :  "  As  to  the  French  sermons,  I  never  met 
with  any  of  them  that  are  to  be  compared  with  those  of  M.  de  Super- 
ville, the  Protestant  minister  at  Rotterdam.  He  especially  excels  in 
the  beauty  of  his  imagery,  descriptions,  and  similies;  and  has  some  of 
the  most  pathetic  expostulations  I  ever  saw."  A  few  of  his  sermons 
were  translated  mto  English,  and  published,  many  years  ago,  in  Lon- 
don.    In  the  French  they  fiU  four  octavo  volumes. 


CHRIST  THE  ONLY  WAY  OF  SALYATIOK 

"  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life ;  no  man  cometh  unto  the  Father,  but 
by  Me." — John,  xiv.  6. 

Men  are  the  subjects  of  three  very  ancient  evils ;  sin,  ignorance, 
and  death.  When  I  survey  all  the  religions  which  have  appeared 
in  the  world,  all  the  sects  of  philosophers,  all  the  arts  which  have  been 


122  DANIEL    DE    SUPERVILLE. 

invented,  to  find  remedies  against  these  three  evils,  I  seem  to  be- 
hold human  nature  in  the  situation  of  those  diseased  persons,  who, 
among  certain  nations,  used  to  be  placed  at  the  doors  of  their  houses, 
that  every  passerby  might  contribute  his  advice  or  medicine  for 
their  cure.  For  want  of  skillful  physicians,  and  a  solid  and  regular 
practice,  to  which  they  were  strangers,  all  were  in  the  habit  of  pre- 
scribing for  their  neighbors,  and  each  individual  communicated  the 
result  of  his  own  experience. 

But  what  multitudes  passed  by  us,  and  considered  our  maladies, 
before  one  was  found  able  to  cure  them !  Philosophers  came  with 
their  pretended  discoveries,  their  counsels  and  their  precepts.  They 
proposed  to  dissipate  our  gloom,  and  to  restore  us  to  happiness  by 
reclaiming  us  to  virtue.  They  gave  us  nothing  but  words.  They 
wrote  fine  books,  and  made  large  promises  to  our  wants,  but  were 
not  able  to  relieve  them.  They  called  upon  man  to  arise ;  and  they 
gave  him  no  strength  to  obey  the  exhortation.  They  called  upon 
him  to  look ;  and  they  afforded  him  only  a  transient,  glimmering 
light,  insufiicient  for  the  discernment  of  objects.  They  dissuaded 
from  the  fear  of  Death ;  but  they  never  disarmed  him,  or  supplied 
any  means  of  escaping  from  his  power.  The  world  with  its  policy 
and  prudence,  the  arts  it  has  invented,  its  power  and  protection,  has 
never  been  able  to  effect  more  than  a  temporary  oblivion  of  these 
evils.  It  has  left  them  as  great  and  incurable  as  ever.  All  the  relig- 
ions which  appeared  before  Jesus  Christ,  were  equally  unsuccessful 
in  their  attempts  to  remedy  them.  Most  of  them  established  the 
dominion  of  ignorance  and  vice,  instead  of  delivering  from  their 
power;  and  they  vainly  attempted  to  purify  their  votaries  and 
appease  the  divinity,  by  their  sacrifices,  victims,  and  lustrations. 
Moses  himself  and  the  law  which  he  promulgated,  only  declared — 
We  are  not  "  He  that  is  to  come ;  look  ye  for  another !"  They  only 
made  the  j)atient  more  sensible  of  his  disease  and  more  ardently  de- 
sirous of  its  cure. 

At  last  Jesus  Christ  came,  and  with  Him  every  thing  came. 
Of  Him  may  be  truly  af&rmed  what  the  philosopher  caused  to  be 
falsely  inscribed  on  his  school.  "  Here  is  a  remedy  for  all  evils." 
Yes,  Christians,  in  Him  we  find  a  remedy  against  sin,  ignorance, 
and  death ;  and  in  vain  would  you  hope  to  find  one,  except  in  Him 
and  His  religion.  He  declares,  "  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and 
the  life :  no  man  cometh  unto  the  Father,  but  by  Me." 

You  must  not  expect  us  to  say  every  thing  that  might  be  ad- 
vanced on  this  comprehensive  text.  These  few  compendious  words 
comprise  all  the  glory  of  our  Mediator,  all  the  benefits  He  bestows 


CHRIST    THE    ONLY    WAT    OF    SALVATION.  123 

upon  US,  all  the  advantages  we  derive  from  His  alliance.  And  wlio 
could  fully  develop  all  these  things  in  the  short  period  allotted  to 
this  exercise  ?  We  shall  only  endeavor  to  exhibit  the  most  essen- 
tial and  important  lessons  which  the  passage  contains. 

The  text  naturally  divides  itself  into  two  propositions,  very 
closely  connected,  and  mutually  explanatory  of  each  other.  The 
first  shows  what  titles  Jesus  Christ  assumes  with  reference  to 
us.  "I  am,"  says  He,  "the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life."  This 
we  shall  endeavor  to  elucidate  in  our  first  part.  Then  we  shall  ex- 
amine the  second  proposition  ;  which  shows  that  this  great  Saviour, 
to  the  exclusion  of  every  other,  is  our  only  conductor  to  the  Father. 
"  No  man  cometh  unto  the  Father,  but  by  Me."  The  explication 
and  proof  of  this  important  truth  will  form  our  second  part. 

I.  To  develop  and  elucidate  the  meaning  of  these  magnificent 
words,  "  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life,"  we  shall  do  two 
things.  First,  we  shall  consider  the  three  appellations  generally,  and 
shall  offer  some  useful  remarks  on  the  union,  extent,  and  force,  of 
the  three  connected  together.  Then  we  shall  consider  them  sepa- 
rately, and,  as  far  as  we  can,  shall  exhibit  the  meaning,  beauty,  and 
truth,  of  each  of  these  glorious  titles. 

Our  first  observation  must  relate  to  the  occasion  of  this  discourse. 
Jesus  Christ  was  about  to  leave  His  disciples.  All  the  grief  and 
terror  which  the  fear  of  a  melancholy  desertion  could  excite  in  the 
mind,  the  Apostles  felt ;  and  amid  the  trouble  into  which  sorrow 
had  plunged  them,  they  no  longer  knew  what  they  said,  or  remem- 
bered things  with  which  they  ought  to  have  been  most  deeply  im- 
pressed. He  had  spoken  of  his  absence  as  a  journey  on  which  he 
was  going  to  prepare  a  place  for  them,  after  which  he  would  come 
to  them  again.  Upon  this,  Thomas  said:  "Lord,  we  know  not 
whither  Thou  goest,  and  how  can  we  know  the  way?"  Jesus  re- 
plied: "  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life."  You  say  that 
you  know  not  the  way  to  follow  Me,  and  I  am  Myself  the  way  by 
which  you  must  go  to  the  Father ;  a  way  that  you  ought  to  know, 
and  it  is  unnecessary  to  seek  for  another.  "  Because  I  have  said  these 
things  to  you,  sorrow  hath  filled  your  heart."  But  if  "  ye  believe  in 
God,  believe  also  in  Me."  "  I  am  the  truth."  Confide  in  My  jDrom- 
ises  ;  "  I  will  come  again,  and  receive  you  unto  Myself."  You  fear 
the  world  and  its  persecutions;  My  approaching  death  terrifies  you; 
and  you  tremble  for  yourselves.  "  I  am  the  life."  I  will  come  again ; 
I  shall  rise  from  the  dead  on  the  third  day.  "  Because  I  live,  ye 
shall  live  also."  He  that  loseth  his  life  for  My  sake,  shall  find  it 
again  in  Me  and  by  Me.    For  by  Me  is  the  only  way  of  access  to  the 


124  DANIEL    DE    SUPERVILLB. 

glory  of  the  Father.     This  is  the  general  sense  and  scope  of  the 
whole  text. 

Secondly,  whether  you  take  these  expressions  separately,  or  join 
them  together  and  consider  them  as  exemplifying  a  figure  very 
common  in  the  style  of  the  Scriptures,  as  well  as  of  profane  authors — 
by  which  "  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life"  will  be  understood  as 
denoting  the  true  way  to  life,  or  the  way  which  leads  to  life,  or  the 
true  and  living  way — in  every  form,  the  proposition  is  true,  and  the 
sense  just  and  certain.  To  affirm  separately,  that  Jesus  Christ  is 
the  way,  that  He  is  the  truth,  that  He  is  the  life,  or  conjointly  to 
affirm  that  He  is  the  true  way  to  life,  is  equally  correct. 

Thirdly. — That  the  language  of  Jesus  Christ  is  evidently  figu- 
rative, can  not  be  doubted.  Here  you  perceive  how  very  familiar 
and  common  the  use  of  figurative  terms  was  with  Him,  even  when 
he  was  conversing  with  His  dearest  disciples  with  a  view  to  their 
instruction  and  consolation.  Such  modes  of  expression  serve  to  con- 
vey an  idea  with  more  vividness  and  power,  and  in  fewer  words,  than 
could  be  done  by  simple  terms.  There  is  something  at  once  far 
more  concise  and  energetic  in  Jesus's  calling  Himself  "the  way,  the 
truth,  and  the  life,"  than  if  He  had  simply  described  Himself  as  the 
guide  to  Heaven,  the  teacher  of  truth,  and  the  giver  of  life. 

Fourthly,  let  ns  observe,  that  in  order  to  a  correct  explication 
of  these  titles  which  the  Saviour  assumes,  they  must  be  applied  to 
Him  in  one  and  the  same  point  of  view.  He  is  "  the  truth  and  the 
life,"  in  the  same  character  in  which  He  is  "  the  way."  He  is  the 
way,  considered  as  Mediator,  Cod  and  Man,  who  not  only  has  united 
in  His  person  two  natures  infinitely  different,  but  by  the  actions  of 
His  ministry  has  reconciled  heaven  and  earth.  When  He  says,  in 
the  next  clause,  "No  man  cometh  unto  the  Father,  but  by  Me," 
He  speaks  of  Himself  as  Mediator.  It  is  in  this  character,  therefore, 
that  He  also  considers  Himself  when  He  says,  "  I  am  the  truth  and 
the  life."  Though  it  may  be  truly  affirmed  that  He  is  "  the  truth 
and  the  life,"  essentially  and  of  Himself;  eternal  truth,  uncreated 
wisdom,  original  life,  necessarily  existing,  without  beginning  and 
without  end,  who  gives  to  all  things  whatever  they  have  of  subsist- 
ence, life  and  motion :  yet  it  appears  evident  to  me,  that  this  is  not 
what  He  intends  to  assert  in  this  place ;  but  that  He  contemplates 
rather  what  He  is  with  relation  to  us,  than  what  He  is  in  Himself 
by  His  divine  nature ;  in  a  word,  that  He  speaks  of  Himself  as  Me- 
diator. 

It  must  also  be  remarked,  that  though  this  description  exhibits 
Jesus  Christ  in  the  capacity  of  Mediator,  yet  the  titles  and  qualities 


CHRIST    THE    ONLY    WAT    OF    SALVATION.  125 

here  mentioned  are  sucli  as  no  mere  man  could  ever  arrogate  to 
himself.  It  could  never  be  said  of  any  mere  man,  that  he  is  the  truth 
and  the  hfe,  that  He  is  the  source  of  those  qualities,  or  possesses  them 
in  a  supreme  degree. 

No  one  of  the  Evangelists  gives  us  so  sublime  a  representation 
of  Jesus  Christ  and  His  divinity,  as  John.  He  has  carefully  collected 
certain  discourses  of  the  Son  of  God  which  are  altogether  divine ; 
and  taking  the  language  of  the  Saviour  as  his  model,  he  adopts,  both 
in  his  gospel  and  his  epistles,  whenever  he  speaks  of  the  Lord  Jesus, 
a  style  peculiar  to  himself.  Yes,  my  brethren,  in  these  words,  "  I 
am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life,"  we  must  acknowledge  the 
voice  of  God,  and  not  of  man.  What  man  ever  spake  like  this 
Man  ?  Do  you  not  perceive  in  His  language  a  character  of  great- 
ness, which  confirms  what  we  believe,  that  the  Lord  Jesus  is  both 
God  and  Man  in  one  person  ?  "I  am,"  he  says  :  that  is,  "I  am  He 
who  is,  and  who  was,  and  who  is  to  come :"  who  is  the  way,  who  ivas 
the  expected  truth,  and  who  will  he  the  life  to  all  the  faithful.  When 
men  say,  /  am;  if  they  mean  to  do  justice,  they  will  say,  with 
Abraham,  ^'  I  am  but  dust  and  ashes  ;"  with  David,  "  I  am  a  stranger 
and  a  sojourner,  as  all  my  fathers  were;"  with  Peter,  "I  am  a  sinful 
man."  This  is  all  that  man  can  boast  of  in  himself.  He  is  mere 
dust,  weakness,  death;  but  Jesus  Christ  is  "the  life."  Man  is  a 
traveler  who  has  lost  his  road ;  but  Jesus  Christ  is  "  the  way."  Man 
is  ignorance  and  error ;  but  Jesus  Christ  is  "  the  truth." 

These  words  also  exhibit  a  character  of  greatness,  inasmuch  as 
Jesus  Christ  is  not  afraid  of  declaring  openly  and  freely  what  He  is. 
Men  in  general  wish  others  to  say  what  they  are,  in  preference  to 
saying  it  themselves,  from  a  fear  that  none  will  believe  them.  Their 
vanity  is  fond  of  concealing  itself  under  the  appearances  of  an  in- 
genuous and  dehcate  humility  from  which  their  pride  hopes  to  derive 
some  new  advantage.  False  modesty !  which  endeavors  to  steal  the 
esteem  of  mankind  by  external  deceptions.  But  Jesus  Christ  seeks 
not  these  stratagems.  He  is  above  our  weakness  and  fears,  and  the 
artifice  of  our  self-love.  The  ancient  heathens  deemed  it  a  noble 
sincerity,  characteristic  of  true  heroes,  to  profess  ingenously  what 
they  thought  of  themselves.  It  is  far  more  interesting  to  the  salva- 
tion of  men,  that  Jesus  Christ  dissembles  not  what  He  is,  but  de- 
clares His  glory  and  His  benefits.  Therefore,  without  any  circum- 
locution. He  afiirms  on  this  occasion,  "  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth, 
and  the  life." 

Lastly,  we  must  not  forget  to  remark  what  a  great  difference  there 
is  between  the  titles  claimed  or  accepted  by  men,  and  those  which 


126  DANIEL    DE    SUPERVILLE. 

are  assumed  by  Jesus  Christ.     The  titles  of  men  have  many  faults ; 
the  three  following  are  very  common. 

In  the  first  place,  they  are  marks  of  weakness  of  mind,  of  vanity 
and  pride,  rather  than  proofs  of  true  glory  and  virtue.  One  is  de- 
nominated Good,  another  Magnificent,  August,  Merciful,  Bold, 
"Wise,  Just,  Great.  But  even  in  cases  where  the  persons  honored 
with  any  of  these  fine  names,  are  not  wholly  destitute  of  some  cor- 
respondent virtues,  those  virtues  are  so  small  that  all  we  can  con- 
sider such  titles  as  implying  is,  that  in  certain  individuals  there  is  a 
little  good  and  much  evil,  little  virtue  and  great  pride. 

In  the  second  place,  is  it  not  a  great  fault  in  men  to  prefer  titles 
which  express  power  and  greatness  to  those  Avhich  indicate  goodness 
and  usefulness?  Yet  nothing  is  more  common.  Intoxicated  with 
a  false  idea  of  glory,  they  scarcely  ever  make  it  consist  in  virtues  that 
are  peaceable,  useful,  beneficent,  adopted  to  promote  the  public  re- 
pose. The  surnames  of  Great,  Conqueror,  and  Invincible  are  more 
acceptable  to  them  than  those  of  Good,  Just,  and  Father  of  the  people. 

In  the  last  place,  so  far  are  these  surnames  from  presenting  an  idea 
of  any  good,  that  most  of  them  have  no  foundation  but  in  great  evils. 
Kothing  less  than  the  infliction  of  calamity  upon  some  provinces, 
and  the  ruin  of  many  thousands  of  families,  is  necessary  to  constitute 
a  claim  to  the  title  of  Conqueror.  Thus  one  has  been  named  Poh'or- 
cetes,  or  a  Taker  of  Cities ;  another  Asiaticus,  or  Africanus,  from  the 
country  which  submitted  to  his  arms,  or  was  the  scene  of  his  war- 
like achievements ;  another  The  Great,  or  TJie  Victorious. 

Proud  mortals,  efface  all  your  titles !  Jesus  Christ  is  the  only  one 
who  deserves  to  wear  them !  In  Him  all  names  are  inferior  to  the 
realities !  He  is  the  only  being  who  possesses  perfections  without 
mixture  or  shade  !  whose  glory  is  in  harmony  with  the  happiness  of 
all!  whose  virtues  are  great  in  themselves  and  beneficial  to  mankind! 
Thus  it  is  with  relation  to  us,  and  in  the  capacity  of  our  Mediator 
and  Head,  that  He  here  denominates  Himself  "  the  way,  and  the 
truth,  and  the  life." 

From  these  general  remarks  let  us  proceed  to  a  more  particular 
examination  of  each  of  these  expressions  by  itself.  Jesus  Christ  is 
"  the  way  to  the  Father."  Is  He  so,  simply  because  He  teaches  by 
His  doctrine  what  we  ought  to  believe  and  to  practice  ?  One  inter- 
preter refers  not  only  this  first  title,  but  the  others  also,  exclusively 
to  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  and  tells  us  that  our  Lord  often  affirms  of 
His  person  what  properly  belongs  to  His  doctrine,  and  that  He  em- 
ploys substantives  instead  of  adjectives.  But  we  consider  this  inter- 
preter as  weakening  the  force  of  the  terms,  and  diminishing  the  glory 


CHRIST    THE    ONLY    WAT    OF    SALVATION.  127 

of  our  Saviour,  who  is  in  Himself  "  tlie  way  to  the  Father,"  not  only 
by  His  doctrine  but  by  His  merit :  not  only  as  our  prophet,  but  as 
our  priest. 

First,  then,  I  observe  that  Jesus  Christ  is  "  the  way,"  beyond 
all  doubt,  by  His  doctrine  and  His  precepts.  By  the  revelation  of 
His  Gospel,  He  has  taught  us  what  we  ought  to  believe  concern- 
ing God,  and  what  we  "  must  do  to  be  saved."  But  this  sense  is  far 
from  reaching  all  the  extent  of  the  expression — "  I  am  the  way."  It 
must  be  added,  in  the  second  place,  that  beside  doctrines,  precepts, 
and  promises,  Christ  has  also  given  us  examples.  His  actions  have 
marked  out  a  road  in  which  we  ought  to  walk.  He  has  "  left  us  an 
example,  that  we  should  follow  His  steps."  This  sense,  however, 
still  fails  of  exhausting  all  the  force  of  the  Saviour's  language.  In 
the  third  place.  He  is  "the  way  "  by  his  merit:  and  this  is  certainly 
what  He  principally  intended  here,  where  He  was  evidently  speaking 
of  his  death.  Eeflect,  my  brethren,  on  the  state  of  sin  in  which 
were,  and  which  caused  a  separation  between  God  and  us.  Reflect 
on  the  distance  between  sinful  man  and  a  righteous  God :  and  if  you 
inquire  how  sinners  may  draw  nigh  to  God,  listen  to  Jesus  Christ, 
who  informs  you,  "I  am  the  way."  He  reopens  the  communica- 
tion between  God  and  man,  as  we  sliall  see  more  at  large  in  the 
sequel  of  our  discourse.  His  merit  alone  has  appeased  Divine  just- 
ice. Without  Him  we  should  have  no  right  to  communion  with 
God.  He  is  also  the  channel  by  which  our  prayers,  and  acts  of  piety, 
ascend  to  God,  and  the  gifts  of  God  descend  to  us. 

The  second  expression,  "  I  am  the  truth,"  in  like  manner,  pos- 
sesses considerable  force.  Its  meaning  is  equally  noble  and  just. 
It  signifies,  in  the  first  place,  that  our  Lord  is  eminently  true,  "  the 
faithful  and  true  witness  ;"  true  in  His  promises  and  threatenings  ; 
true  in  His  oracles  ;  true  in  His  doctrine  and  the  mysteries  He  has 
revealed.  Placed  in  opposition  to  all  men,  Jesus  Christ  is  the  in- 
fallible teacher.  He  "  came  into  the  world  to  bear  witness  unto 
the  truth."     His  "  word  is  truth." 

But  not  only  is  He  the  great  teacher  of  truth,  He  is  the  truth 
itself ;  because  in  His  person  and  in  His  ofiice  of  Mediator,  He  is  the 
object  of  our  knowledge,  the  end  of  the  law,  and  the  center  of  re- 
ligion. As  God  and  Man  united,  as  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  He 
is  the  truth  of  the  oracles — which  He  verified ;  the  truth  of  the 
promises — which  He  fulfilled ;  the  truth  of  the  figures — of  which 
He  was  the  archetype ;  the  truth  of  the  ceremonies  and  of  the  whole 
law— of  which  He  was  the  end.  "Christ  is  the  end  of  the  law  for 
righteousness  to  every  one  that  believeth."     "  The  law  was  given 


228  DANIEL    DE    SUPERVILLE. 

by  Moses,  but  grace  and  trutli  came  by  Jesus  Christ."  Without 
Him  we  could  know  but  little  of  the  justice  and  mercy  of  God,  the 
extent  of  His  perfections,  the  secrets  of  His  providence.  Without 
Him,  the  fall  of  man,  the  permiwssion  of  sin,  the  preservation  of  a 
sinful  world,  the  choice  of  the  Jewish  people  among  all  nations 
while  all  others  were  abandoned,  and  the  miracles  wrought  in  favor 
of  that  nation,  would  be  enigmas  impossible  to  be  deciphered. 

How  much  might  be  said  on  this  part  of  the  subject,  if  we  had 
time  to  dwell  upon  it!  The  heathens  complained  that  truth  luas  hid- 
den  in  a  well.  In  Jesus  Christ  it  has  emerged  from  its  concealment. 
He  has  "revealed  things"  which  were  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father, 
which  "  eye"  had  "  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither"  had  "  entered 
into  the  heart  of  man."  He  is  Himself  the  principal  subject  of  all 
revelation  :  Him  the  prophets  announced  before  He  came ;  Him  the 
apostles  preached  after  His  appearance.  "  This  is  life  eternal,"  to 
"know  Thee  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  Thou  hast 
sent."  Let  us  further  observe,  that  He  is  the  source  of  all  revelation, 
not  only  by  the  things  which  He  Himself  taught  in  addition  to  the 
light  of  nature  and  the  institutes  of  Moses,  but  also  by  those  which 
the  apostles  taught  after  Him.  For  by  the  Spirit  whom  He  sent, 
were  discovered  to  them  the  secrets  of  the  Father.  What  He  de- 
livered He  drew  from  His  own  stores ;  and  it  was  from  His  stores 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  drew  those  communications  with  which  He  in- 
spired the  apostles.  "  Therefore,"  said  Jesus,  "  He  shall  take  of 
Mine,  and  shall  show  it  unto  you." 

The  third  title,  "  I  am  the  life,"  is  not  inferior  to  the  other  two, 
we  may  af&rm  that  each  of  the  titles  which  Christ  assumes,  and  this 
among  them,  has  an  infinity  of  meaning :  but  I  shall  confine  myself 
to  the  following  summary.  He  is  "  the  life"  in  opposition  to  three 
kinds  of  death,  spiritual  death  or  a  death  in  sin,  corporeal  death, 
and  eternal  death.  In  opposition  to  spiritual  death  "Christ  is  our 
life,"  because  after  having  justified  us  by  His  blood.  He  raises  us  to 
newness  of  life  by  the  grace  of  His  Spirit.  He  sanctifies  and  makes 
us  new  creatures ;  He  quickens  us,  and  enables  us  to  walk  in  the 
paths  of  righteousness ;  He  nourishes  and  confirms  us,  and  leads  us 
from  strength  to  strength.  He  is  the  author,  principle,  and  source 
of  our  spiritual  life,  by  the  merit  of  His  death,  the  precepts  of  His 
word,  and  the  energy  of  the  Spirit.  In  opposition  to  corporeal  death, 
"  Christ  is  our  life,"  because  He  will  raise  our  bodies  from  the  dust. 
"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life :  he  that  belie veth  in  Me,  though 
he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live."  He  reigns  over  our  tombs  and  wiU 
one  day  command  the  earth  to  give  up  her  dead.     "  I  know  that  my 


CHRIST    THE    ONLY    WAT    OF    SALVATION.  ^29 

Kedeemer  livetli,  and  that  He  shall  stand  at  the  latter  day  upon  the 
earth ;  and  though  after  my  skin  worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in 
my  flesh  shall  I  see  God :  -whom  I  shall  see  for  myself,  and  mine 
eyes  shall  behold."  Lastly,  in  opposition  to  eternal  death,  "  Christ 
is  our  life,"  because  He  has  delivered  us  from  hell,  merited  heaven 
and  procured  eternal  life,  into  the  possession  of  which  He  will 
solemnly  introduce  us  after  the  resurrection,  when  He  will  say, 
"  Come,  ye  blessed  of  My  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for 
you." 

I  can  not  refrain  from  remarking  farther,  that  in  the  term  "  life" 
there  is  a  twofold  opposition  to  all  other  religions,  and  to  their 
authors.  Every  where,  except  in  Jesus  Christ,  you  find  nothing  but 
death  and  a  curse.  Death  in  paganism  whose  very  gods  were  mortal; 
death  in  human  traditions  ;  death  even  in  the  law  of  Aloses,  which 
condemned  for  the  violation  of  a  single  point.  But  the  religion  of 
Christ  exhibits  truth  and  life.  Compare  Christ  with  all  other  found- 
ers of  religions.  Which  of  them  has  received  the  keys  of  the  tomb  ? 
"Which  of  them  has  asserted  an  empire  over  death?  Have  they 
given  life  to  their  followers  ?  Have  they  raised  one  person  from  the 
dead  ?  Ah !  so  far  from  giving  life  to  others,  they  could  not  pre- 
serve their  own !  The  Zoroasters,  the  Orpheuses,  the  Numas,  the 
Mahammeds  are  dead ;  they  are  neither  life  nor  living.  How  long 
have  dust  and  worms  evinced  the  fraud  of  these  impostors,  and  their 
dry  bones  admonished  mankind  :  "  Mortals,  expect  not  from  us  the 
life  which  you  seek !"  Moses  is  dead,  and  his  sepulcher  is  not  less 
real  because  it  is  concealed.  But  do  you  doubt  whether  Christ  is 
"  the  life  ?"  He  is  risen  again,  and  ascended  into  heaven  !  "  He 
was  dead,  but  is  alive  again ;  and  behold  He  is  alive  for  evermore  !" 
Death  and  the  grave  will  confess  that  their  bonds  were  too  feeble  to- 
detain  "  the  Prince  of  Life."  Enough  has  been  said  to  evince  our 
Saviour  to  be  "  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life." 

Bi».  why  does  not  Jesus  content  Himself  with  assuming  one  title  ?' 
Why  does  He  accumulate  three  ?  His  design  is  to  exhibit  Himself 
as  our  all ;  our  way  in  which  we  ought  to  walk,  our  truth  to  en- 
lighten our  path,  our  life  to  quicken  us,  to  sustain  in  our  journey, 
and  to  crown  us  at  the  end.  He  connects  the  three  titles,  because 
He  can  not  be  divested  of  three  qualities.  And  without  possessing 
them.  He  could  never  bestow  upon  us  a  full  and  complete  salvation. 
Without  truth^  He  could  not  be  our  way  to  life.  If  He  were  not  our 
way,  He  would  cease  to  be  our  truth  and  our  life.  If  He  were  not 
able  to  give  me  life^  I  should  no  longer  regard  Him  as  my  ivay  and 
my  truth. 

9 


130  DANIEL    DE    SUPERVILLE. 

You  all  know  that  under  the  law  there  were  three  classes  of  lead- 
ers ;  kings  at  the  head  of  the  state,  priests  at  the  head  of  the  Church, 
and  projDhets  who,  on  some  extraordinary  occasions,  reformed  both 
the  Church  and  the  state.  But  Jesus  Christ  with  great  advantage 
sustains  all  these  characters.  The  kings,  far  from  being  "the  way 
and  the  truth,"  often  caused  the  people  to  err,  being  themselves  led 
astray  by  their  idolatries  or  vices.  The  priests  also  did  not  always 
"  keep  knowledge ;"  and  their  priesthood  was  only  a  shadow  of  that 
of  Christ,  The  prophets  always  spoke  of  an  obscure  futurity ;  they 
scarcely  showed  the  truth  but  as  concealed,  and  delivered  by  degrees 
an  imperfect  revelation.  "  God  spake  by  them  at  sundry  times  and 
in  divers  manners."  But  Jesus  Christ,  a  king  always  true,  good, 
and  powerful ;  an  eternal  priest,  always  "able  to  save  to  the  utter- 
most them  that  come  unto  God  by  Him  ;"  a  Prophet  always  endued 
with  the  Spirit  without  measure,  the  original  source  of  light,  possess- 
ing truth  of  Himself  and  in  His  own  stores ;  was,  is,  and  ever  will 
be,  "the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life"  to  all  the  faithful.  The 
patriarchs  had  no  other.  Christ  is  "  the  same  yesterday,  and  to-day, 
and  forever."  "  Abraham  saw  his  day  and  was  glad."  The 
prophets  knew  no  other:  "to  Him"  they  all  "gave  witness,  that 
through  His  name  whosoever  believeth  in  Him,  shall  receive  remis- 
sion of  sins."  The  Apostles  taught  no  other ;  they  desired  "  to 
know  none  but  Jesus  Christ."  We  need  no  other;  for  "it  hath 
pleased  the  Father,  that  in  Him  should  all  fullness  dwell ;  and  of 
His  fullness  have  all  we  received,  and  grace  for  grace."  No  other 
can  supply  our  necessities.  He  Himself  declares  that  "  no  man 
cometh  to  the  Father  but  by  Him."     This  is  to  form  our  second  part. 

II.  What  the  Son  of  God  had  asserted  in  a  figurative  manner  in 
the  first  proposition,  He  expresses  more  literally  in  the  second.  He 
extends  and  reasserts  it,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other :  I  am  the 
only  way ;  there  is  no  other  to  go  to  the  Father :  I  am  the  only 
truth  ;  it  can  not  be  found  out  of  Me :  I  am  the  only  life ;  no  one 
can  be  made  a  partaker  of  the  life  to  come,  but  by  Me.  You  per- 
ceive at  once  the  universality  of  the  proposition:  "No  man  cometh 
unto  the  Father,  but  by  Me  :"  there  is  no  other  way  of  salvation  for 
the  Jew  or  the  Gentile,  for  the  learned  or  the  ignorant.  Jesus  Christ 
might  be  "  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life  ;"  yet  it  might  not  neces- 
sarily be  concluded  that  there  was  no  other  way  :  it  might  be  asked, 
Can  not  all  this  be  found  in  others  ?  Hear  His  answer  :  "I  am  the 
door :  and  all  that  ever  came  before  Me,  all  that  enter  not  by  Me, 
are  thieves  and  robbers :  by  Me  if  any  man  enter  in,  he  shall  be 


CHRIST    THE    ONLY    WAT    OF    SALVATION.  131 

saved."  "  I  am  the  liglit  of  the  world  ;  he  that  foUoweth  Me  shall 
not  walk  in  darkness :  whosoever  belie veth"  not  "  on  Me  abideth  in 
darkness."  "  He  that  gathereth  not  with  Me,  scattereth  abroad." — 
"  I  AM  THE  WAY  :"  "  without  Me  ye  can  do  nothing."  "I  am  the 
TRUTH :"  "  every  one  that  is  of  the  truth,  heareth  My  voice."  "  I 
AM  THE  LIFE  :"  "  he  that  believeth  in  Me,  though  he  were  dead,  3^et 
shall  he  live  :"  "  he  that  believeth  not,  shall  not  see  life ;  he  is  con- 
demned already."  These  declarations  both  confirm  and  illustrate 
the  truth  contained  in  our  text. 

But  for  its  further  explanation  let  us  observe  that  "  to  come  to 
the  Father"  signifies  in  general,  to  have  communion  with  God,  to 
approach  Hiin  in  the  ways  of  religion,  to  be  united  to  Him  by  grace 
and  by  glory.  "To  come  to  the  Father,"  is  to  know  Him  as  He 
chooses  to  be  known,  to  believe  in  Him,  and  to  pay  Him  acceptable 
services.  "  To  come  to  the  Father,"  is  to  be  reconciled  to  God,  and 
in  consequence  of  that  reconciliation,  to  approach  Him  with  confi- 
dence, by  acts  of  faith,  love,  and  piety.  Lastly,  "  to  come  to  the 
Father,"  is  to  enter  into  His  glory,  to  partake  of  His  blessedness. 
"  He  that  cometh  to  God,"  says  the  Apostle,  "  must  believe  that  He 
is,  and  that  He  is  a  rewarder  of  them  that  diligently  seek  Him." 
And  the  solemn  Avords  with  which  Jesus  Christ  will  introduce  us 
into  His  glory,  will  be,  "  Come  ye  blessed  of  My  Father."  So  when 
the  Saviour  says,  "No  man  cometh  unto  the  Father,  but  by  Me;" 
He  means  to  exhibit  Himself  as  the  only  medium  by  which  it  is 
possible  to  have  saving  communion  with  God,  either  in  grace  or  in 
glory. 

In  proof  of  this  great  and  important  truth,  we  remark  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  the  only  one  who  has  removed  the  obstacles  which 
on  the  part  of  God  opposed  our  reunion  to  Him. 

The  first  obstacle  was  that  of  immutable  justice  and  the  state 
into  which  we  had  fallen  by  sin.  God  is  necessarily  just,  and  we 
were  deserving  of  punishment.  God  is  the  supreme  Governor  of 
the  world  and  the  Preserver  of  order ;  we  were  violators  of  order 
and  natural  rectitude.  How  could  the  Lord  leave  guilt  unpunished, 
and  make  a  rebellious  creature  happy ;  ^'  Shall  not  the  Judge  of 
all  the  earth  do  right?"  It  seems  to  have  been  the  sentiment  of  all 
nations,  that  a  sinner  must  perish,  or  find  some  means  of  appeasing 
the  Divinity,  some  way  of  expiating  sin,  and  satisfying  the  claims 
of  violated  Majesty.  God  also,  who  can  not  fortify  an  error,  ap- 
pears to  have  confirmed  this  sentiment  by  commanding  the  Israel- 
ites to  offer  sacrifices.  But  what  proportion  exists  between  the  sac- 
rifice of  animals  or  even  of  men,  and  the  majesty  of  the  Supreme 


]^32  DANIEL    DE    SUPERVILLE. 

Being  offended  by  a  creature ;  between  tlie  blood  of  slaughtered 
victims  and  injury  done  to  tlie  divine  laws.  Vain  are  all  ablutions, 
and  lustrations ;  they  could  never  cleanse  our  stains.  Eeason,  nat- 
ural revelation,  the  precepts  of  philosophy,  even  the  religion  of 
Moses,  offered  nothing  sufl&cient  to  reconcile  us  to  God,  supplied  no 
efficacious  way  of  satisfying  Divine  justice.  Jesus  Christ  was  that 
way  ;  He  removed  this  obstacle.  "  No  man  cometh  unto  the  Father, 
but  by  Him." 

On  this  subject  the  Scriptures  teach  us  three  truths.  The  first 
is,  that  our  Mediator  really  satisfied  for  us,  appeased  the  Divinity, 
merited  our  reconciliation.  "God  was  in  Christ,  reconciling  the 
world  unto  Himself,  not  imputing  their  trespasses  unto  them." 
"  When  we  were  enemies,  we  were  reconciled  to  God  by  the  death 
of  His  Son."  "He  is  our  peace,  having  made  peace  through  the 
blood  of  His  cross."  Him  "  God  hath  set  forth  to  be  a  propitiation, 
through  faith  in  His  blood :  In  whom  we  have  redemption,  even 
the  forgiveness  of  sins."  The  second  truth  is  that  it  is  only  Jesus 
Christ  who  has  done  this,  who  has  satisfied  for  us.  The  glory  is 
not  divided.  He  "  hath  trodden  the  wine  press  alone,  and  of  the 
people  there  was  none  with  Him."  "  There  is  one  God,  and  one 
Mediator  between  God  and  men,  the  man  Christ  Jesus.  St.  Paul 
clearly  proves  that  "the  grace  of  God  is  by  one  man,  Jesus  Christ;" 
and  that  "as  by  the  offense  of  one  judgment  came  upon  all  men  to 
condemnation,  even  so  by  the  righteousness  of  one,"  by  one  justi- 
fying righteousness,  "the  free  gift  came  upon  all  men  to  justifica- 
tion of  life."  The  same  Apostle  also  proves  it  to  be  by  the  "  one 
sacrifice"  of  Christ,  by  His  "  one  offering,"  that  we  are  purified  and 
sanctified,  and  by  His  intercession  alone  that  we  obtain  a  place 
among  the  saints.  Lastly,  on  this  head,  the  Scripture  not  only  in- 
forms us  that  Jesus  Christ  has  satisfied  by  His  death,  and  that  He 
has  made  satisfaction  alone,  but  it  also  assures  us  that  by  no  other 
being  could  satisfaction  ever  have  been  made. 

I  conclude  this  from  the  manner  in  which  the  Apostles  in  almost 
everj^  page  extol  the  great,  the  infinite  mercy  of  God  in  sending  His 
Son  and  giving  Him  up  to  die.  They  never  would  have  held  such 
lano-uage  if  there  had  been  other  ways  of  appeasing  Divine  justice 
and  effecting  the  salvation  of  men  ;  if  what  Jesus  Christ  has  done, 
could  have  been  performed  by  other  mediators.  Consider  brethren ; 
there  has  never  been  another  individual  in  the  world,  who  was  a 
man  without  being  a  sinner;  who  could  discharge  the  debts  of 
others  without  being  burdened  with  any  debt  of  His  own  ;  who  by 
His  death  could  offer  a  sacrifice  proportioned  to  the  dignity  of  the 


CHRIST    THE    ONLY    WAY    OF    SALVATION.  I33 

party  offended,  and  the  dignity  of  whose  person  could  render  the 
punishment  of  one  equivalent  to  that  of  many ;  who  could  suffer 
without  perishing  and  sinking  under  His  sufferings.  He,  and  He 
only,  could  transfer  to  Himself  the  punishments  of  others — without 
injustice  to  others,  because  He  is  independent  and  Master  of  Him- 
self— without  injustice  to  Himself,  because  He  had  power  to  rise 
again  and  return  from  death.  From  all  this  you  will  conclude  that 
"no  one  cometh  to  the  Father,  but  by  Jesus  Christ,"  because  He, 
and  He  only,  is  in  foct  our  Mediator  and  Surety ;  He  and  He  only 
could  reconcile  us  to  God  by  His  death. 

Come,  then,  ye  authors  of  other  religions,  come  and  plead  your 
claims  in  opposition  to  the  Author  of  ours  !  Where  were  you  when 
He  gave  His  blood  for  the  ransom  of  the  world  ?  "Where  were  you 
when  He  struggled  alone  with  justice,  when  alone  He  sustained  the 
strokes  of  Divine  vengeance?  What  works  have  you  performed, 
that  we  should  believe  in  you?  What  have  you  done  for  man? 
Your  object  has  been  to  flatter  him,  instead  of  healing  his  maladies. 
You  have  wished  to  receive  every  thing  from  the  Deity,  and  to  make 
Him  no  return.  Where  is  your  sacrifice  ?  Where  is  your  victim  ? 
Ah  !  you  are  unable  to  restore  to  me  God  whom  I  have  lost  by  sin : 
you  can  not  bring  me  back  to. God,  from  whom  my  heart  has  been 
alienated  by  fear. 

The  second  obstacle  which  kept  us  at  a  distance  from  God,  was 
our  dread  of  Him  and  His  tremendous  justice:  but  Christ  has  also 
removed  this  obstacle  to  our  approach,  this  cause  of  our  flight  from 
the  Supreme  Judge,  arising  from  uncertainty,  distrust,  and  fear. 
Jesus  has  given  us  a  certain  hope  of  pardon,  has  announced  it  by 
explicit  promises,  and  shown  us  the  foundations  on  which  it  rests. 
He  has  banished  our  distrust  and  annihilated  our  fears,  by  the  assur- 
ance of  His  "  having  made  peace  by  the  blood  of  His  cross."  He 
declares  that  God,  instead  of  being  our  enemy,  is  become  our  friend, 
that  he  is  willing  to  readmit  us  to  the  enjoyment  of  His  love  and 
all  the  blessings  which  that  love  includes.  By  these  declarations 
terrified  man  is  encouraged,  his  conscience  is  tranquilized,  and  he 
approaches  God  with  confidence.  Since  it  is  in  Jesus  Christ  and  by 
Him  alone,  that  God  reveals  Himself  propitious  to  sinners  ;  since  it 
is  He  alone  that  enables  us  to  contemplate  the  Deity  sitting  on  a 
throne  of  grace,  to  which  He  gives  us  access  by  His  merit  and  in- 
tercession ;  it  is  certain  that  "  no  man  cometh  to  the  Father  but  by 
Him." 

The  third  thing  necessary  to  bring  us  near  to  God,  was  to  change 
our  hearts,  to  make  us  holy,  to  detach  us  from  excessive  love  of  the 


134  .     DANIEL    DE    SUPERYILLE. 

creatures  ;  in  order,  ou  the  one  hand,  that  the  holiness  of  God  might 
not  oppose  our  admission  to  His  communion,  and  on  the  other,  that 
our  hearts  might  no  longer  be  alienated  from  God  by  propensities  to 
sin.  This  is  a  point  which  false  religions  had  scarcely  ever  contem- 
plated, wholly  ignorant  of  the  depth  of  human  corruption,  or  think- 
ing of  it  only  to  flatter  it,  and  forming  no  just  ideas  of  an  All- 
perfect  Being.  But  Jesus  Christ  changes  the  heart  of  the  man  whom 
He  deigns  to  bring  to  God :  He  annihilates  the  moral  distance  be- 
tween a  holy  God  and  a  corrupt  heart ;  first,  by  the  precepts  of  His 
word,  and  the  motives  He  presents  to  induce  us  to  love  God  and 
despise  the  world ;  secondly,  by  His  example  which  He  proposes  to 
our  imitation;  thirdly,  by  His  Spirit  which  mortifies  the  old  man 
and  forms  the  new  man  within  us.  No  religion  ever  delivered  pre- 
cepts on  the  love  of  God  so  certain  and  complete  as  His ;  no  one 
ever  furnished  motives  so  powerful,  to  excite  us  to  follow  its  laws : 
still  further  have  any  others  been  from  giving  a  perfect  example  for 
our  direction.  Jesus  Christ  alone  has  been  able  to  impart  a  mirac- 
ulous power  to  gain  the  hearts  ;  that  Holy  Spirit  which  draws  us  to 
God,  and  forms  the  pecuHar  character  of  His  religion  ;  that  Spirit 
the  fruit  of  His  merit  and  intercession,  which  He  sent  down  imme- 
diately after  His  ascension  to  heaven,  and  without  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  please  God.  This  justifies  the  conclusion  that  "no  man 
cometh  to  the  Father,  but  by  Jesus  Christ." 

We  proceed  to  another  proof.  It  is  only  by  Jesus  Christ  that  our 
prayers  can  be  acceptable  to  God ;  He  is  our  only  Advocate  and  In- 
tercessor with  the  Father.  This  is  a  truth,  astonishing  to  tell !  op- 
posed by  multitudes.  All  Christians  acknowledge  Jesus  Christ  to 
be  our  only  Mediator  in  redemption  ;  but  the  Eoman  Catholics  pre- 
tend that  we  may  have  many  mediators  in  intercession.  They  main- 
tain that  those  intercessors  obtain  favor  for  us  with  God,  not  only 
by  their  prayers,  but  also  by  their  merits.  How  then  does  Jesus 
afiirm  that  "no  man  cometh  to  the  Father  but  by  Him?"  How 
does  St.  John  say,  "  If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  Advocate  with  the 
Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous ;  and  He  is  the  propitiation  for 
our  sins  ?"  Why  speak  of  an  advocate,  if  there  are  many,  though 
different  ?  His  design  in  that  passage  is  to  comfort  the  faithful  who 
fall  into  any  sin.  If  the  doctrine  of  Eome  were  true,  would  He  not 
say  that  there  are  many  advocates  with  God;  that  beside  Jesus 
Christ  who  is  the  principal,  there  are  as  many  protectors  and  interces- 
sors as  there  are  saints  both  male  and  female  ?  On  the  contrary,  St. 
John  exhibits  only  one  source  of  comfort  and  confidence,  "  Jesus 
Christ  the  righteous."     Here  is  the  foundation  of  the  ofiice  He  exer- 


CHRIST    THE    ONLY    WAT    OF    SALVATION. 


135 


cises  for  us.  He  is  our  advocate,  because  He  is  "  the  rigliteous,"  in- 
nocent in  Himself,  and  our  true  righteousness  who  justifies  us,  and 
satisfies  on  our  behalf.  The  Apostle  adds,  that  "  He  is  the  propitia- 
tion for  our  sins."  His  propitiation  is  the  ground  of  the  second  act 
of  His  priesthood,  which  is  intercession.  I  remark  then,  as  Jesus 
Christ  alone  has  made  expiation  for  our  crimes,  so  it  is  He  only, 
who,  having  no  claims  on  Himself,  is  qualified  to  intercede  for  us  with 
the  Father,  in  an  oflicial  character,  with  authority,  and  with  all 
needful  success.     "  No  man  cometh  to  the  Father,  but  by  Him." 

So  many  proofs  united  establish  our  proposition  beyond  all 
doubt.  Jesus  Christ  alone  has  satisfied  for  us,  and  appeased  God ; 
He  alone  has  rendered  Deity  propitious,  accessable,  favorable ;  He 
alone  possesses  the  Spirit  of  grace  to  communicate  to  us  from  His 
Father ;  He  alone  has  taken  away  our  alienations  of  heart  from  God  ; 
He  alone  has  appeared  in  the  presence  of  God  and  intercedes  for  us, 
with  justice,  authority,  and  efficacy.  We  will  add,  He  alone  will 
come  to  deliver  us  from  death,  as  we  have  already  shown  you  under 
our  first  head.     "  No  man  cometh  to  the  Father,  but  by  Him." 

To  conclude,  let  us  first  pity  the  erroneous,  nnd  fortify  our  faith 
against  error.  Let  us  pity  and  mourn  over  the  blind  Jew,  who  still 
seeks  salvation  in  a  dead  law,  and  rejects  Him  who  is  "  the  truth 
and  the  life."  Let  us  also  deplore  the  unhappy  state  of  many  nations, 
who,  far  from  our  Jesus,  the  only  source  of  spiritual  light  and  life, 
are  languishing  in  darkness  and  in  the  shadow  of  death.  Let  us, 
above  all,  detest  the  impiety  of  those  persons  who,  under  the  pre- 
tence of  exalting  the  goodness  of  God,  assert  that  salvation  may  be 
obtained  in  all  kinds  of  religions,  provided  men  acknowledge  a  Su- 
preme Being.  These  people  seem  to  have  the  same  notion  as  Tamer-" 
lane,  the  famous  Conqueror,  who  is  said  to  have  readily  tolerated  all 
sects  and  all  diversities  of  faith,  alleging  that  God  resembles  a  great 
prince  who  likes  a  variety  of  officers  and  services.  But  this  is  a 
sentiment  unworthy  of  God,  and  presents  an  idea  truly  ridiculous. 
He  is  uniform,  simple  in  His  ways.  Truth  is  one,  and  nothing  is  more 
contrary  to  revelation  than  these  notions. 

Christians,  our  beloved  is  One  alone !  Let  us  never  associate 
with  Him  any  companion,  in  our  worship  or  in  our  hearts.  Let  us 
love  Him  exclusively,  in  preference  to  every  other.  "No  man 
cometh  unto  the  Father,  but  by  Him."  None  but  the  High  Priest 
could  offer  that  exquisite  perfume,  the  composition  of  which  is  so 
carefully  prescribed.  None  but  the  High  Priest  could  enter  into  the 
most  holy  place.     Jesus  is  the  true  Joseph,  of  whom  alone  the 


136  DANIEL    DE    SUPERVILLE. 

Father  hath  said,  ''  Go  unto  Joseph ;  what  He  saith  to  you,  do : 
without  Him  shall  no  man  lift  up  his  hand  or  his  foot  in  all  the 
land." 

Let  us  adhere  to  this  great  Saviour !  How  firmly  men  attach 
themselves  to  a  patron  of  known  goodness  and  established  credit, 
especially  when  no  other  can  be  found  capable  of  affording  full  pro- 
tection !  Let  us  follow  Him  by  practicing  His  religion  and  obeying 
His  truth !  Let  us  not,  like  the  Israelites,  grow  weary  in  the  way. 
Be  of  good  courage,  Christian  travelers !  Let  us  follow  Him  who 
is  "  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life."  "  He  that  folio weth  Him 
shall  not  walk  in  darkness."  "  He  that  belie veth  in  Him^  though  he 
were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live."  Yes,  Jesus  is  "  the  life."  You  know 
it,  ye  happy  spirits,  who  are  exalted  to  sit  with  Him  on  His  throne  ; 
and  we  shall  one  day  know  it  too  !  We  know  it  already,  by  faith, 
and  hope ;  and  soon  we  shall  know  it  by  enjoyment  and  glory ! 
God  gTant  us  all  this  grace !     Amen. 


DISCOURSE    FIFTY. THIRD. 

JOHN    BAPTIST    MASSILLON. 

Tub  Whitefield  of  the  French  pulpit,  as  Massillon  has  been  styled, 
■was  born,  of  obscure  parentage,  at  Hieres,  m  Provence,  in  the  year  1662. 
In  his  studies  he  bestowed  special  attention  upon  sacred  eloquence  ;  and 
was  soon  called  to  iDreach  in  the  pulpits  of  Paris,  where  he  attracted  the 
livelist  admiration,  thrilling  his  hearers  "  as  by  the  shocks  of  a  spiritual 
electricity."  In  1718  he  was  presented  with  the  Bishopric  of  Clermont, 
and  died  on  the  28th  of  September,  1742. 

Massillon  is  one  of  the  "  unapproachable  triumvirate"  of  the  French 
pulpit  orators.  There  are  those  who  consider  him  foremost  among  them 
all.  Certainly  he  was  excelled  by  none  in  many  points  of  lofty,  persua- 
sive eloquence.  His  style  is  that  of  simple  elegance  combined  with 
wondrous  strength  and  vigor.  The  peculiarities  of  his  sermonizing  are 
great  clearness  of  thought,  perfect  sobriety  of  judgment,  tender  emo- 
tions, melting  pathos,  novelty  of  illustration,  copiousness  of  language,  and 
unerring  taste  and  skill. 

When  Baron,  the  great  actor,  heard  him,  he  said  to  a  companion, 
"  My  friend,  here  is  an  orator  ;  as  for  us,  we  are  but  actors."  But  the 
best  feature  of  his  pulpit  productions,  was  their  deep  religious  spirit,  and 
their  earnestness  and  faithfulness,  in  dealing  with  the  consciences  of  his 
hearers.  His  discourses  are  pervaded  with  that  onction.,  that  mild  magic, 
that  tender  and  affecting  manner,  that  gentle  fascination,  that  endearing 
simplicity  which  allures  and  wins,  and  renders  lovely  the  religion  of  the 
blessed  Gospel.  His  eloquence  goes  right  into  the  soid,  and  without 
lacerating  it,  penetrates,  and  convinces,  and  subdues.  It  was  the 
"  Grand  Monarch  "  who  said  to  him :  "  Father,  I  have  heard  many  great 
orators  in  this  chapel,  and  have  been  highly  pleased  with  them  ;  but  with 
you,  whenever  I  hear  you,  I  go  away  displeased  with  myself,  for  I  see 
my  own  character."  Some  of  Massillon's  sermons  have  been  translated, 
but  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  rendering  was  not  more  free  and 
graceful.  That  which  is  here  given  is  the  one  most  celebrated.  When 
drawing  near  to  the  close,  and  uttermg  one  of  his  overwhelming  sen- 
tences, the  whole  congregation  started  to  their  feet,  and  interrupted 


138  JOHN    BAPTIST    MASSILLON, 


the  preacher  by  their  murmurs  and  exclamations  of  terror  and  despair. 
It  is  proper  to  add  that  while  the  translation  above  referred  to  is  the 
basis  of  that  here  given,  it  has  been  necessary  to  recast  many  of  the  sen- 
tences, and  greatly  modify  the  general  rendermg.  It  is  believed  that 
the  sermon,  as  here  given,  retains  somewhat  of  the  freedom,  ease,  and 
vivacity  which  it  bore  as  it  fell  fi-om  the  great  orator's  Hps. 


THE  SMALL  NUMBEE  OF  THE  SAVED. 

"And  many  lepers  were  in  Israel  in  the  time  of  Eliseus  the  prophet ;  and  none  of 
them  was  cleansed,  saving  Naaman  the  Syrian." — Luke,  iv.  27. 

Every  day,  my  brethren,  you  continue  to  ask  of  us,  whether  the 
road  to  heaven  is  really  so  difficult,  and  the  number  of  the  saved 
really  so  small  as  we  represent  ?  To  a  question  so  often  ]Droposed, 
and  still  oftener  resolved,  our  Saviour  answers  you  here,  that  there 
were  many  widows  in  Israel  afflicted  with  famine ;  but  the  widow 
of  Sarepta  was  alone  found  worthy  the  succor  of  the  prophet  Elias ; 
that  the  number  of  lepers  was  great  in  Israel  in  the  time  of  the 
prophet  Eliseus ;  and  that  Naaman  was  only  cured  by  the  man  of 
God. 

Were  I  here,  my  brethren,  for  the  purpose  of  alarming,  rather 
than  instructing  you,  I  had  need  only  to  recapitulate  what  in  the 
holy  writings  we  find  dreadful  with  regard  to  this  great  truth ;  and, 
running  over  the  history  of  the  just,  from  age  to  age,  show  you 
that,  in  all  times,  the  number  of  the  saved  has  been  very  small. 
The  family  of  Noah  alone  saved  from  the  general  flood ;  Abraham 
chosen  from  among  men  to  be  the  sole  depositary  of  the  covenant 
with  God  ;  Joshua  and  Caleb  the  only  two  of  six  hundred  thousand 
Hebrews  who  saw  the  Land  of  Promise ;  Job  the  only  upright  man 
in  the  Land  of  Uz — ^Lot,  in  Sodom.  To  representations  so  alarming, 
would  have  succeeded  the  sayings  of  the  j^rophets.  In  Isaiah  you 
would  see  the  elect  as  rare  as  the  grapes  which  are  found  after  the 
vintage,  and  have  escaped  the  search  of  the  gatherer ;  as  rare  as  the 
blades  which  remain  by  chance  in  the  field,  and  have  escaped  the 
scythe  of  the  mower.  The  Evangelist  would  still  have  added  new 
traits  to  the  terrors  of  these  images.  I  might  have  spoken  to  you 
of  two  roads — of  which  one  is  narrow,  rugged,  and  the  path  of  a 
very  small  number;  the  other  broad,  open^  and  strewed  with  flowers, 
and  almost  the  general  path  of  men :  that  every  where,  in  the  holy 


THE    SMALL    NUMBER    OF    THE    SAVED.  139 

writings,  the  multitude  is  always  spoken  of  as  forming  tlie  party  of 
tlie  reprobate  ;  while  the  saved,  compared  with  the  rest  of  mankind, 
form  only  a  small  flock,  scarcely  perceptible  to  the  sight,  I  would 
have  left  you  in  fears  with  regard  to  your  salvation ;  always  cruel 
to  those  who  have  not  renounced  faith  and  every  hope  of  being 
among  the  saved.  But  what  would  it  serve  to  limit  the  fruits  of 
this  instruction  to  the  single  point  of  setting  forth  how  few  persons 
will  be  saved  ?  Alas !  I  would  make  the  danger  known,  without 
instructing  you  how  to  avoid  it ;  I  would  show  you,  with  the  prophet^ 
the  sword  of  the  wrath  of  God  suspended  over  your  heads,  without 
assisting  you  to  escape  the  threatened  blow  ;  I  would  alarm  but  not 
instruct  the  sinner. 

My  intention  is,  therefore,  to-day,  to  search  for  the  cause  of  this 
small  number,  in  our  morals  and  manner  of  life.  As  every  one  flat- 
ters himself  he  will  not  be  excluded,  it  is  of  importance  to  examine 
if  his  confidence  be  well  founded.  I  wish  not,  in  marking  to  3'ou 
the  causes  which  render  salvation  so  rare,  to  make  you  generally 
conclude  that  few  will  be  saved,  but  to  bring  you  to  ask  yourselves 
if,  living  as  you  live,  you  can  ho^^e  to  be  saved.  Who  am  I  ?  "What 
am  I  doing  for  heaven  ?  And  what  can  be  my  hopes  in  eternity  ? 
I  propose  no  other  order  in  a  matter  of  such  importance.  What  are 
the  causes  which  render  salvation  so  rare?  I  mean  to  point  out  three 
principal  causes,  which  is  the  only  arrangement  of  this  discourse. 
Art,  and  far-sought  reasonings,  would  here  be  ill-timed.  O  attend, 
therefore,  be  ye  whom  ye  may !  No  subject  can  be  more  worthy 
your  attention,  since  it  goes  to  inform  you  what  may  be  the  hopes 
of  your  eternal  destiny. 

Paet  I. — Few  are  saved,  because  in  that  number  we  can  only 
comprehend  two  descriptions  of  persons : — either  those  who  have 
been  so  happy  as  to  preserve  their  innocence  jDure  and  undefiled,  or 
those  who,  after  having  lost,  have  regained  it  by  penitence.  This  is 
the  first  cause.  There  are  only  these  two  ways  of  salvation  :  heaven 
is  only  open  to  the  innocent  or  to  the  penitent.  Now,  of  which  party 
are  you  ?     Are  you  innocent  ?     Arc  you  penitent  ? 

Nothing  unclean  shall  enter  the  kingdom  of  God.  We  must 
consequently  carry  there  either  an  innocence  unsullied,  or  an  inno- 
cence regained.  Now  to  die  innocent,  is  a  grace  to  which  few  souls 
can  aspire :  and  to  live  penitent,  is  a  mercy  which  the  relaxed  state 
of  our  morals  renders  equally  rare.  Who,  indeed,  will  pretend  to 
salvation  by  the  claim  of  innocence  ?  Where  are  the  pure  souls  in 
whom  sin  has  never  dwelt,  and  who  have  preserved  to  the  end  the 


140  JOHN    BAPTIST    MASSILLON. 

sacred  treasure  of  gi'ace  confided  to  them  by  baptism,  and  whicli  our 
Saviour  will  redemand  at  the  awful  day  of  punishment  ? 

In  those  happy  days  when  the  whole  Church  was  still  but  an 
assembly  of  saints,  it  was  very  uncommon  to  find  an  instance  of  a 
believer,  who,  after  having  received  the  gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
acknowledged  Jesus  Christ  in  the  sacrament  which  regenerates  us, 
fell  back  to  his  former  irregularities  of  life.  Ananias  and  Sapphira, 
were  the  only  prevaricators  in  the  Church  of  Jerusalem ;  that  of 
Corinth  had  only  one  incestuous  sinner.  Church-penitence  was  then 
a  remedy  almost  unknown ;  and  scarcely  was  there  found  among 
these  true  Israelites  one  single  leper  whom  they  were  obliged  to 
drive  from  the  holy  altar,  and  separate  from  communion  with  his 
brethren.  But,  since  that  time  the  number  of  the  upright  diminishes, 
in  proportion  as  that  of  believers  increases.  It  would  appear  that  the 
world,  pretending  now  to  have  become  almost  generally  Christian, 
has  brought  with  it  into  the  Church  its  corruptions  and  its  maxims. 

Alas!  we  all  go  astray,  almost  from  the  breast  of  our  mothers! 
The  first  use  which  we  make  of  our  heart  is  a  crime ;  our  first  desires 
are  passions ;  and  our  reason  only  expands  and  increases  on  the 
wrecks  ef  our  innocence.  The  earth,  says  a  prophet,  is  infected  by 
the  corruption  of  those  who  inhabit  it :  all  have  violated  the  laws, 
changed  the  ordinances,  and  broken  the  alliance  which  should  have 
endured  forever :  all  commit  sin,  and  scarcely  is  there  one  to  be 
found  who  does  the  work  of  the  Lord.  Injustice,  calumny,  lying, 
treachery,  adultery,  and  the  blackest  crimes  have  deluged  the  earth. 
The  brother  lays  snares  for  his  brother  ;  the  father  is  divided  from 
his  children ;  the  husband  from  his  wife :  there  is  no  tie  which  a  vile 
interest  does  not  sever.  Good  faith  and  probity  are  no  longer  virtues 
except  among  the  simple  people.  Animosities  are  endless ;  reconcil- 
iations are  feints,  and  never  is  a  former  enemy  regarded  as  a  brother: 
they  tear,  they  devour  each  other.  Assemblies  are  no  longer  but 
for  the  purpose  of  public  and  general  censure.  The  purest  virtue  is 
no  longer  a  protection  from  the  malignity  of  tongues.  Gaming  is 
become  either  a  trade,  a  fraud,  or  a  fury.  Repasts — those  innocent 
ties  of  society — degenerate  into  excesses  of  which  we  dare  not  speak. 
Our  age  witnesses  horrors  with  which  our  forefathers  were  un- 
acquainted. 

Behold,  then,  already  one  path  of  salvation  shut  to  the  general- 
ity of  men.  All  have  erred.  Be  ye  whom  you  may  who  listen  to 
me  now,  the  time  has  been  when  sin  reigned  over  you.  Age  may 
perhaps  have  calmed  your  passions,  but  what  was  your  youth  ? 
Long  and  habitual  infirmities  may  perhaps  have  disgusted  you  with 


THE    SMALL    NUMBER    OP    THE    SAVED.  14X 

the  world ;  but  what  use  did  you  formerly  make  of  the  vigor  of 
health  ?  A  sudden  inspiration  of  grace  may  have  turned  your 
heart,  but  do  you  not  most  fervently  entreat  that  every  moment 
prior  to  that  inspiration  may  be  effaced  from  the  remembrance  of 
the  Lord. 

But  with  what  am  I  taking  up  time  ?  We  are  all  sinners,  0  my 
God  I  and  Thou  knowest  our  hearts !  What  we  know  of  our  errors, 
is,  perhaps,  in  Thy  sight,  the  most  pardonable ;  and  we  all  allow, 
that  by  innocence  we  have  no  claim  to  salvation.  There  remains, 
therefore,  only  one  resource,  which  is  penitence.  After  our  ship- 
wreck, say  the  saints,  it  is  the  timely  plank  which  alone  can  conduct 
us  into  port ;  there  is  no  other  means  of  salvation  for  us.  Be  ye 
whom  you  may,  prince  or  subject,  high  or  low,  penitence  alone  can 
save  you.  Now  permit  me  to  ask — 'AYhere  are  the  penitent  ?  You 
will  find  more,  says  a  holy  father,  who  have  never  fallea,  than  who, 
after  their  fall,  have  raised  themselves  by  true  repentance.  This 
is  a  terrible  saying ;  but  do  not  let  us  carry  things  too  far :  the  truth 
is  sufficiently  dreadful  without  adding  new  terrors  to  it  by  vain  dec- 
lamation. 

Let  us  only  examine  as  to  whether  the  majority  of  us  have  a 
right,  through  penitence,  to  salvation.  What  is  a  penitent?  Ac- 
cording to  TertuUian,  a  penitent  is  a  believer  who  feels  every  moment 
his  former  unhappiness  in  forsaking  and  losing  his  God.  One  who 
has  his  guilt  incessantly  before  his  eyes  ;  who  finds  every  where  the 
traces  and  remembrance  of  it. 

A  penitent  is  a  man  intrusted  by  God  with  judgment  against 
himself ;  one  who  refuses  himself  the  most  innocent  pleasures  because 
he  had  formerly  indulged  in  those  the  most  criminal ;  one  who  puts 
up  with  the  most  necessary  gratification  with  pain ;  one  who  regards 
his  body  as  an  enemy  whom  it  is  necessary  to  conquer — as  an  un- 
clean vessel  which  must  be  purified — as  an  unfaithful  debtor  of 
whom  it  is  proper  to  exact  to  the  last  farthing.  A  penitent  regards 
himself  as  a  criminal  condemned  to  death,  because  he  is  no  longer 
worthy  of  life.  In  the  loss  of  riches  or  health,  he  sees  only  a 
withdrawal  of  favors  that  he  had  formerly  abused :  in  the  humih- 
ations  which  happen  to  him,  only  the  pains  of  his  guilt :  in  the  ago- 
nies with  which  he  is  racked,  only  the  commencement  of  those  pun- 
ishments he  has  justly  merited.     Such  is  a  j^enitent. 

But  I  again  ask  you — Where,  among  us,  are  penitents  of  this 
description  ?  Now  look  around  you.  I  do  not  tell  you  to  judge 
your  brethen,  but  to  examine  what  are  the  manners  and  morals  of 
those  who  surround  you.     Nor  do  I  speak  of  those  open  and  avowed 


142  JOHN    BAPTIST    MASSILLON. 

sinners  who  have  thrown  off  even  the  appearance  of  virtue.  I  speak 
only  of  those  who,  like  yourselves,  live  as  most  live,  and  whose 
actions  present  nothing  to  the  public  view  particularly  shameful  or 
depraved.  They  are  sinners,  and  they  admit  it :  you  are  not  inno- 
cent, and  you  confess  it.  Now  are  they  penitent?  or  are  you? 
Age,  avocation,  more  serious  employments,  may  perhaps  have 
checked  the  sallies  of  youth.  Even  the  bitterness  which  the  Al- 
mighty has  made  attendant  on  our  passions,  the  deceits,  the  treach- 
eries of  the  world,  an  injured  fortune,  with  ruined  constitution,  may 
have  cooled  the  ardor,  and  confined  the  irregular  desires  of  your 
hearts.  Crimes  may  have  disgusted  you  even  with  sin  itself — for 
passions  gradually  extinguish  themselves.  Time,  and  the  natural 
inconstancy  of  the  heart  will  bring  these  about ;  yet,  nevertheless, 
though  detached  from  sin  by  incapability,  you  are  no  nearer  your 
God.  According  to  the  world  you  are  become  more  prudent,  more 
regular,  to  a  greater  extent  what  it  calls  men  of  probity,  more  exact 
in  fulfilling  your  public  or  private  duties.  But  you  are  not  jDcnitent. 
You  have  ceased  from  your  disorders,  but  you  have  not  expiated  them. 
You  are  not  converted :  this  great  stroke,  this  grand  operation  on 
the  heart,  which  regenerates  man,  has  not  yet  been  felt  by  you. 
Nevertheless,  this  situation,  so  truly  dangerous,  does  not  alarm  you. 
Sins  which  have  never  been  washed  away  by  sincere  repentance, 
and  consequently  never  obliterated  from  the  book  of  life,  appear  in 
your  eyes  as  no  longer  existing ;  and  you  will  tranquilly  leave  this 
world  in  a  state  of  impenitence,  so  much  the  more  dangerous  as  you 
will  die  without  being  sensible  of  your  danger. 

What  I  say  here,  is  not  merely  a  rash  expression,  or  an  emotion 
of  zeal ;  nothing  is  more  real,  or  more  exactly  true :  it  is  the  situa- 
ation  of  almost  all  men,  even  the  wisest  and  most  esteemed  of  the 
world.  The  morality  of  the  younger  stages  of  life  is  always  lax,  if 
not  licentious.  Age,  disgust,  and  establishment  for  life,  fix  the 
heart,  and  withdraw  it  from  debauchery :  but  where  are  those  who 
are  converted  ?  Where. are  those  who  expiate  their  crimes  by  tears 
of  sorrow  and  true  repentance?  Where  are  those  who,  having 
begun  as  sinners,  end  as  penitents  ?  Show  me,  in  your  manner  of 
living,  the  smallest  trace  of  penitence !  Are  your  grasj3ings  at  wealth 
and  power,  your  anxieties  to  attain  the  favor  of  the  great  (and  by 
these  means  an  increase  of  employments  and  influence) — are  these 
proofs  of  it  ?  Would  you  wish  to  reckon  even  your  crimes  as  vir- 
tues ? — that  the  sufferings  of  your  ambition,  pride,  and  avarice,  should 
discharge  you  from  an  obligation  which  they  themselves  have  im- 
posed ?     You  are  penitent  to  the  world,  but  are  you  so  to  Jesus 


THE    SMALL    NUMBER    OP    THE    SAVED.  I43 

Christ  ?  The  infirmities  with  wliicli  God  afflicts  you,  the  enemies 
He  raised  up  against  you,  the  disgraces  and  losses  with  whicli  He 
tries  you — do  you  receive  tliem  all  as  you  ougTit,  with  liumble  sub- 
mission to  His  will  ?  or,  rather,  far  from  finding  in  them  occasions 
of  penitence,  do  you  not  turn  tliem  into  the  objects  of  new  crimes  ? 
It  is  the  duty  of  an  innocent  soul  to  receive  with  submission  the 
chastisements  of  the  Almighty;  to  discharge,  with  courage,  the 
painful  duties  of  the  station  allotted  to  him,  and  to  be  faithful  to  the 
laws  of  the  Grospel — but  do  sinners  owe  nothing  beyond  this  ?  And 
yet  they  pretend  to  salvation !  Upon  what  claim  ?  To  say  that  you 
are  innocent  before  God,  your  own  consciences  will  witness  against 
you.  To  endeavor  to  persuade  yourselves  that  you  are  penitent, 
you  dare  not ;  and  you  would  condemn  yourselves  by  your  own 
mouths.  Upon  what,  then,  dost  thou  depend,  0  man !  who  thus 
livest  so  tranquil  ? 

And  what  renders  it  still  more  dreadful  is  that,  actino:  in  this 
manner  you  only  follow  the  current ;  your  morals  are  the  morals  of 
well-nigh  all  men.  You  may,  perhaps;  be  acquainted  with  some 
still  more  guilty  (for  I  suppose  you  to  have  still  remaining  some 
sentiments  of  religion,  and  regard  for  your  salvation),  but  do  you 
know  any  real  penitents  ?  I  am  afraid  we  must  search  the  deserts 
and  solitudes  for  them.  You  j)0ssibly  may  mention,  among  persons 
of  rank  and  worldly  custom,  a  small  number  whose  morals  and  mode 
of  life,  more  austere  and  guarded  than  the  generality,  attract  the 
attention,  and  very  likely  the  censure  of  the  public.  But  all  the 
rest  walk  in  the  uniform  path.  I  see  clearly  that  every  one  comforts 
himself  by  the  example  of  his  neighbor :  that,  in  that  point,  children 
succeed  to  the  false  security  of  their  fathers  ;  that  none  live  innocent, 
that  none  die  penitent :  I  see  it,  and  I  cry,  0  God !  if  Thou  hast  not 
deceived  us  ;  if  all  Thou  hast  told  us  with  regard  to  the  road  to  eter- 
nal life  shall  be  strictly  fulfilled,  if  the  number  of  those  who  must 
perish  shall  not  influence  Thee  to  abate  from  the  severity  of  Thy 
laws — what  will  become  of  that  immense  multitude  of  creatures 
which  every  hour  disappears  from  the  face  of  the  earth  ?  Where 
are  our  friends,  our  relations  who  have  gone  before  us?  and  Avhat  is 
their  lot  in  the  eternal  regions  of  the  dead  ?  What  shall  w^e  ourselves 
become  ? 

When  formerly  a  prophet  complained  to  the  Lord  that  all  Israel 
had  forsaken  His  protection.  He  rej^lied  that  seven  thousand  still 
remained  who  had  not  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal.  Behold  the  num- 
ber of  pure  and  faithful  souls  which  a  whole  kingdom  then  con- 
tained !     But  couldst  Thou  still,  0,  my  God !  comfort  the  anguish 


144  JOHN    BAPTIST    MASSILLON. 

of  Thj  servants  to-clay  by  the  same  assurance !  I  know  that  Thine 
eye  discerns  still  some  upright  among  us ;  that  the  priesthood  has 
still  its  Phineases ;  the  magistracy  its  Samuels ;  the  sword  its  Josh- 
uas ;  the  court  its  Daniels,  its  Esthers,  and  its  Davids :  for  the  world 
only  exists  for  Thy  chosen,  and  all  would  perish  were  the  number 
accomplished.  But  those  happy  remnants  of  the  children  of  Israel 
who  shall  inherit  salvation — what  are  they,  compared  to  the  grains 
of  sand  in  the  sea ;  I  mean,  to  that  number  of  sinners  who  fight  for 
their  OAvn  destruction  ?  Come  you  after  this,  my  brethren,  to  in- 
quire if  it  be  true  that  few  shall  be  saved?  Thou  hast  said  it,  0, 
my  God !  and  hence  it  is  a  truth  which  shall  endure  forever. 

But,  even  admitting  that  the  Almighty  had  not  spoken  thus,  I 
would  wish,  in  the  second  place,  to  review,  for  an  instant,  what 
passes  among  men : — the  laws  by  which  they  are  governed ;  the 
maxims  by  which  the  multitude  is  regulated:  this  is  the  second 
cause  of  the  paucity  of  the  saved ;  and,  properly  speaking,  is  only 
a  development  of  the  first — the  force  of  habit  and  customs. 

Part  II. — Few  people  are  saved,  because  the  maxims  most 
universally  received  in  all  countries,  and  upon  which  depend,  in 
general,  the  morals  of  the  multitude,  are  incompatible  with  salva- 
tion. The  rules  laid  down,  approved,  and  authorized  by  the  world 
with  regard  to  the  application  of  wealth,  the  love  of  glory.  Chris- 
tian moderation,  and  the  duties  of  offices  and  conditions,  are  directly 
opposed  to  those  of  the  evangelists,  and  consequently  can  lead  only 
to  death.  I  shall  not,  at  present,  enter  into  a  detail  too  extended  for 
a  discourse,  and  too  little  serious,  perhaps,  for  Christians. 

I  need  not  tell  you  that  this  is  an  established  custom  in  the 
world,  to  allow  the  liberty  of  proportioning  expenses  to  rank  and 
wealth ;  and,  provided  it  is  a  patrimony  we  inherit  from  our  ances- 
tors, we  may  distinguish  ourselves  by  the  use  of  it,  without  restraint 
to  our  luxury,  or  without  regard,  in  our  profusion,  to  any  thing  but 
our  pride  and  caprice. 

But  Christian  moderation  has  its  rules.  We  are  not  the  absolute 
masters  of  our  riches ;  nor  are  we  entitled  to  abuse  what  the  Al- 
mighty has  bestowed  upon  us  for  better  purposes.  Above  all,  while 
thousands  of  unfortunate  wretches  languish  in  poverty,  whatever  we 
make  use  of  beyond  the  wants  and  necessary  expenses  of  our  sta- 
tion, is  an  inhumanity  and  a  theft  from  the  poor.  "These  are 
refinements  of  devotion,"  they  say.  "And,  in  matters  of  expense 
and  profusion,  nothing  is  excessive  or  blamable,  according  to  the 
world,  but  what  may  tend  to  derange  the  fortune."     I  need  not  tell 


THE    SMALL    NUMBER    OF    THE    SAVED.  I45 

you  that  it  is  an  approved  custom  to  decide  our  lots,  and  to  regu- 
late our  cboice  of  professions  or  situations  in  life,  by  the  order  of 
our  birth,  or  the  interests  of  fortune.  But,  0  my  God !  does  the 
ministry  of  Thy  Gospel  derive  its  source  from  the  worldly  consid- 
erations of  a  carnal  birth  ?  "  We  can  not  fix  every  thing,"  says  the 
world,  "  and  it  would  be  melancholy  to  see  persons  of  rank  and  birth 
in  avocations  unworthy  of  their  dignity.  If  born  to  a  name  distin- 
guished in  the  world,  you  must  get  forward  by  dint  of  intrigue, 
meanness,  and  expense :  make  fortune  your  idol :  that  ambition, 
however  much  condemned  by  the  laws  of  the  Gospel,  is  only  a  sen- 
timent worthy  your  name  and  birth :  you  are  of  a  sex  and  rank 
which  introduce  you  to  the  gayeties  of  the  world :  you  can  not  but 
do  as  others  do :  you  must  frequent  all  the  public  places,  where 
those  of  your  age  and  rank  assemble :  enter  into  the  same  pleas- 
ures :  pass  your  days  in  the  same  frivohties,  and  expose  yourself  to 
the  same  dangers :  these  are  the  received  maxims,  and  you  are  not 
made  to  reform  them."     Such  is  the  doctrine  of  the  icorld  I 

Now,  permit  me  to  ask  you  here,  who  confirms  you  in  these 
ways?  By  what  rule  are  they  justified  to  your  mind  ?  Who  au- 
thorizes you  in  this  dissipation,  which  is  neither  agreeable  to  the 
title  you  have  received  by  baptism,  nor  perhaps  to  those  you  hold 
from  your  ancestors  ?  Who  authorizes  those  public  pleasures, 
which  you  only  think  innocent  because  your  soul,  already  too  famil- 
iarized with  sin,  feels  no  longer  the  dangerous  impressions  or  tend- 
ency of  them?  Who  authorizes  you  to  lead  an  efieminate  and  sen- 
sual life,  without  virtue,  sufferance,  or  any  religious  exercise? — to 
live  like  a  stranger  in  the  midst  of  your  own  family,  disdaining  to 
inform  yourself  with  regard  to  the  morals  of  those  dependent  upon 
you  ? — through  an  affected  state,  to  be  ignorant  whether  they  be- 
lieve in  the  same  God ;  whether  they  fulfill  the  duties  of  the  relig- 
ion you  profess?  Who  authorizes  you  in  maxims  so  little  Christian  ? 
Is  it  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  Is  it  the  doctrine  of  the  Apostles 
and  saints  ?  For  surely  some  rule  is  necessary  to  assure  us  that  we 
are  in  safety.  What  is  yours?  '"  Custom:''''  that  is  the  only  reply 
you  can  make !  "  We  see  none  around  us  but  what  conduct  them- 
selves in  the  same  way,  and  by  the  same  rule.  Entering  into  the 
world,  we  find  the  manners  already  established :  our  fathers  lived 
thus,  and  from  them  we  copy  our  customs :  the  wisest  conform  to 
them :  an  individual  can  not  be  wiser  than  the  whole  world,  and 
must  not  pretend  to  make  himself  singular,  by  acting  contrary  to 
the  general  voice."  Such,  my  brethren,  are  your  only  comforters 
against  aU  the  terrors  of  religion !     None  act  up  to  the  law.     The 

10 


146  JOHN    BAPTIST    MASSILLON. 

public  example  is  the  only  guaranty  of  our  morals.  We  never 
reflect  that,  as  the  Holy  Spirit  says,  the  laws  of  the  people  are  vain  : 
that  our  Saviour  has  left  us  rules,  in  which  neither  times,  ages,  nor 
customs,  can  ever  authorize  the  smallest  change :  that  the  heavens 
and  the  earth  shall  pass  away,  that  customs  and  manners  shall 
change,  but  that  the  Divine  laws  will  everlastingly  be  the  same. 

We  content  ourselves  with  looking  around  us.  We  do  not  re- 
flect that  what,  at  present,  we  call  custom,  would,  in  former  times, 
before  the  morals  of  Christians  became  degenerated,  have  been  re- 
garded as  monstrous  singularities ;  and,  if  corruption  has  gained 
since  that  period,  these  vices,  though  they  have  lost  their  singular- 
ity, have  not  lost  their  guilt.  We  do  not  reflect  that  we  shall  be 
judged  by  the  Gospel,  and  not  by  custom ;  by  the  examples  of  the 
holy,  and  not  by  men's  opinions ; — that  the  habits,  which  are  only 
established  among  believers  by  the  relaxation  of  faith,  are  abuses 
we  are  to  lament,  not  examples  we  are  to  follow ; — that,  in  chang- 
ing the  manners,  they  have  not  changed  our  duties ; — that  the  com- 
mon and  general  example  which  authorizes  them,  only  proves  that 
virtue  is  rare,  but  not  that  profligacy  is  permitted  ; — in  a  word,  that 
piety  and  a  real  Christian  life  are  too  repulsive  to  our  depraved  na- 
ture ever  to  be  practiced  by  the  majority  of  men. 

Come  now,  and  say  that  you  only  do  as  others  do.  It  is  exactly 
by  that  you  condemn  yourselves.  What!  the  most  terrible  cer- 
tainty of  your  condemnation  shall  become  the  only  motive  for  your 
confidence!  Which,  according  to  the  Scriptures,  is  the  road  that 
conducts  to  death?  Is  it  not  that  which  the  majority  pursue? 
Which  is  the  party  of  the  reprobate?  Is  it  not  the  multitude? 
You  do  nothing  but  what  others  do  !  But  thus,  in  the  time  of  ISToah, 
perished  all  who  were  buried  under  the  waters  of  the  deluge :  all 
who,  in  the  time  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  prostrated  themselves  before 
the  golden  calf:  all  who,  in  the  time  of  Elijah,  bowed  the  knee  to 
Baal ;  all  who,  in  the  time  of  Eleazer,  abandoned  the  law  of  their 
fathers.  You  only  do  what  others  do  !  But  that  is  precisely  wkat 
the  Scriptures  forbid.  "  Do  not,"  say  they,  "  conform  yourselves  to 
this  corrupted  age."  Now,  the  corrupted  age  means  not  the  small 
number  of  the  just,  whom  you  endeavor  not  to  imitate ;  it  means 
the  multitude  whom  you  follow.  You  only  do  what  others  do! 
You  will  consequently  experience  the  same  lot.  "  Misery  to  thee" 
(cried  formerly  St.  Augustine),  " fatal  torrent  of  human  customs! 
Wilt  thou  never  suspend  thy  course !  Wilt  thou,  to  the  end,  draw 
the  children  of  Adam  into  thine  immense  and  terrible  abyss!" 

In  place  of  saying  to  ourselves,  "  What  are  my  hopes?     In  the 


THE    SMALL    NUMBER    OF    THE    SAVED.  I47 

Churcli  of  Jesus  Christ  tliere  are  two  roads ;  one  broad  and  open,  by 
which  almost  the  whole  world  passes,  and  which  leads  to  death  ;  the 
other  narrow,  where  few  indeed  enter,  and  which  conducts  to  life 
eternal ;  in  which  of  these  am  I  ?  Are  mj  morals  those  which  are 
common  to  persons  of  my  rank,  age,  and  situation  in  life  ?  Am  I 
with  the  great  number  ?  Then  I  am  not  in  the  right  path.  I  am 
losing  myself.  The  great  number  in  every  station  is  not  the  party 
saved"  not  far  from  reasoning  in  ^Aw  manner,  we  say  to  ourselves,  "I 
am  not  in  a  worse  state  than  others !  Those  of  my  rank  and  age  live 
as  I  do  !  Why  should  I  not  live  like  them  ?"  Why^  my  dear  hear- 
ers ?  For  that  very  reason  !  The  general  mode  of  living  can  not 
be  that  of  a  Christian  life.  In  all  ages,  the  holy  have  been  remark- 
able and  singular  men.  Tlieir  manners  were  always  different  from 
those  of  the  world ;  and  they  have  only  been  saints  because  their 
lives  had  no  similarity  to  those  of  the  rest  of  mankind.  In  the 
time  of  Esdras,  in  spite  of  the  defense  against  it,  the  custom  pre- 
vailed of  intermarrying  with  strange  women  :  this  abuse  became 
general :  the  priests  and  the  people  no  longer  made  any  scruple  of 
it.  But  what  did  this  holy  restorer  of  the  law  ?  Did  he  follow  the 
example  of  his  brethren  ?  Did  he  believe  that  guilt,  in  becoming 
general,  became  more  legitimate  ?  No  :  he  recalled  the  people  to  a 
sense  of  the  abuse.  He  took  the  book  of  the  law  in  his  hand,  and 
explained  it  to  the  affrighted  people — corrected  the  custom  by  the 
truth. 

Follow,  from  age  to  age,  the  history  of  the  just;  and  see  if  Lot 
conformed  himself  to  the  habits  of  Sodom,  or  if  nothing  distin- 
guished him  from  the  other  inhabitants  ;  if  Abraham  lived  like  the 
rest  of  his  age  ;  if  Job  resembled  the  other  princes  of  his  nation ; 
if  Esther  conducted  herself,  in  the  court  of  Ahasuerus  like  the 
other  women  of  that  prince  ;  if  many  widows  in  Israel  resembled 
Judith  ;  if,  among  the  children  of  the  captivity,  it  is  not  said  of  To- 
bias alone  that  he  copied  not  the  conduct  of  his  brethren,  and  that 
he  even  fled  from  the  danger  of  their  commerce  and  society.  See, 
if  in  those  happy  ages,  when  Christians  were  all  saints,  they  did  not 
shine  like  stars  in  the  midst  of  the  corrupted  nations ;  and  if  they 
served  not  as  a  spectacle  to  angels  and  men,  by  the  singularity  of 
their  lives  and  manners.  If  the  pagans  did  not  reproach  them  for 
their  retirement,  and  shunning  of  all  public  theaters,  places,  and 
pleasures.  If  they  did  not  complain  that  the  Christians  affected  to 
distinguish  themselves  in  every  thing  from  their  fellow-citizens ;  to 
form  a  separate  people  in  the  midst  of  the  people ;  to  have  their 
particular  laws  and  customs ;  and  if  a  man  from  their  side  embraced 


148  JOHN    BAPTIST    MASSILLON. 

the  party  of  tlie  Christians,  they  did  not  consider  him  as  forever 
lost  to  their  pleasures,  assemblies,  and  customs.  In  a  word,  see,  if  in 
all  ages  the  saints  whose  lives  and  actions  have  been  transmitted 
down  to  us,  have  resembled  the  rest  of  mankind. 

You  will  perhaps  tell  us  that  all  these  are  singularities  and  ex- 
ceptions, rather  than  rules  which  the  world  is  obliged  to  follow. 
They  are  exceptions,  it  is  true :  but  the  reason  is,  that  the  general 
rule  is  to  reject  salvation ;  that  a  religious  and  pious  soul  in  the 
midst  of  the  world  is  always  a  singularity  approaching  to  a  miracle. 
The  whole  world,  you  say,  is  not  obliged  to  follow  these  examples. 
But  is  not  piety  alike  the  duty  of  all  ?  To  be  saved,  must  we  not 
be  holy  ?  Must  heaven,  with  difficulty  and  sufferance,  be  gained  by 
some,  and  by  others  with  ease  ?  Have  you  any  other  Gospel  to  fol- 
low ?  Any  other  duties  to  fulfill  ?  Any  other  promises  to  hope  for, 
than  those  of  the  Holy  Bible  ?  Ah !  since  there  was  another  way 
more  easy  to  arrive  at  salvation,  wherefore — ye  pious  Christians, 
who  at  this  moment  enjoy  the  kingdom  gained  with  toil,  and  at  the 
expense  of  your  blood — did  ye  leave  us  examples  so  dangerous  and 
vain  ?  Wherefore  have  ye  opened  for  us  a  road,  rugged,  disagree- 
able, and  calculated'  to  repress  our  ardor,  seeing  there  was  another 
you  could  have  pointed  out  more  easy,  and  more  likely  to  attract 
us,  by  facilitating  our  progress  ?  Great  God !  how  little  does  man- 
kind consult  reason  in  the  point  of  eternal  salvation ! 

Will  you  console  yourselves,  after  this,  with  the  multitude^  as  if 
the  greatness  of  the  number  could  render  the  guilt  unpunished,  and 
the  Almighty  durst  not  condemn  all  those  who  live  like  you  ?  What 
are  all  creatures  in  the  sight  of  God  ?  Did  the  multitude  of  the 
guilty  prevent  Him  from  destroying  all  flesh  at  the  deluge?  from 
making  fire  from  heaven  descend  upon  the  five  iniquitous  cities? 
from  burying,  in  the  waters  of  the  Eed  Sea,  Pharaoh  and  all  his 
army  ?  from  striking  with  death  all  who  murmured  in  the  desert  ? 
Ah !  the  kings  of  the  earth  may  reckon  upon  the  number  of  the 
guilty,  because  the  punishment  becomes  impossible,  or  at  least  diffi- 
cult, when  the  fault  is  become  general.  But  God,  who,  as  Job  says, 
wipes  the  impious  from  off  the  face  of  the  earth,  as  one  wipes  the 
dust  from  off  a  garment — God,  in  whose  sight  all  people  and  nations 
are  as  if  they  were  not — numbers  not  the  guilty.  He  has  regard 
only  to  the  crimes ;  and  all  that  the  weak  and  miserable  sinner  can 
expect  from  his  unhappy  accomplices,  is  to  have  them  as  companions 
in  his  misery. 

So  few  are  saved,  because  the  maxims  most  universally  adopted 
are  maxims  of  sin.    So  few  are  saved,  because  the  maxims  and  duties 


THE    SMALL    NUMBER    OP    THE    SAVED.  149 

most  universally  unknown,  or  rejected,  are  those  most  indispensable 
to  salvation.  This  is  the  last  reflection,  which  is  indeed  nothing  more 
than  the  proof  and  the  development  of  the  former  ones. 

What  are  the  engagements  of  the  holy  vocation  to  which  we 
have  all  been  called?  The  solemn  promises  of  baptism.  "What 
have  we  promised  at  baptism  ?  To  renounce  the  world,  the  devil 
and  the  flesh.  These  are  our  vows.  This  is  the  situation  of  the 
Christian.  These  are  the  essential  conditions  of  our  covenant  with 
God,  by  which  eternal  life  has  been  promised  to  us.  These  truths 
appear  familiar,  and  destined  for  the  common  people ;  but  it  is  a 
mistake.  Nothing  can  be  more  sublime  ;  and,  alas !  nothing  is  more 
generally  unknown  !  It  is  in  the  courts  of  kings,  and  to  the  princes 
of  the  earth,  that  without  ceasing  we  ought  to  announce  them.  Alas ! 
they  are  well  instructed  in  all  the  affairs  of  the  world,  while  the  first 
principles  of  Christian  morality  are  frequently  more  unknown  to 
them  than  to  humble  and  simple  hearts  ! 

At  your  baptism,  then,  you  have  renounced  the  world.  It  is  a 
promise  you  have  made  to  God,  before  the  holy  altar ;  the  Church 
has  been  the  guarantee  and  depository  of  it ;  and  you  have  only 
been  admitted  into  the  number  of  believers,  and  marked  with  the 
indefeasible  seal  of  salvation,  upon  the  faith  that  you  have  sworn  to 
the  Lord,  to  love  neither  the  world,  nor  what  the  world  loves.  Had 
you  then  answered,  what  you  now  repeat  every  day,  that  you  find 
not  the  world  so  black  and  pernicious  as  we  say ;  that,  after  all,  it 
may  innocently  be  loved ;  and  that  we  only  decry  it  so  much  be- 
cause we  do  not  know  it ;  and  since  you  are  to  live  in  the  world  you 
wish  to  live  like  those  who  are  in  it — had  you  answered  thus,  the 
Church  would  not  have  received  you  into  its  bosom ;  would  not  have 
connected  you  with  the  hope  of  Christians,  nor  joined  you  in  com- 
munion with  those  who  have  overcome  the  world.  She  would  have 
advised  you  to  go  and  live  with  those  unbelievers  who  know  not  our 
Saviour.  For  this  reason  it  was,  that  in  former  ages,  those  of  the 
Catechumen,  who  could  not  prevail  upon  themselves  to  renounce 
the  world  and  its  pleasures,  put  off"  their  baptism  till  death ;  and 
durst  not  approach  the  holy  altar,  to  contract,  by  the  sacrament, 
which  regenerates  us,  engagements  of  which  they  knew  the  import- 
ance and  sanctity ;  and  to  fulfill  which  they  felt  themselves  still  un- 
quahfied. 

You  are  therefore  required,  by  the  most  sacred  of  all  vows,  to 
hate  the  world ;  that  is  to  say,  not  to  conform  yourselves  to  it.  If 
you  love  it,  if  you  follow  its  pleasures  and  customs,  you  are  not 
only,  as  St.  John  says,  the  enemy  of  God,  but  you  likewise  renounce 


150  JOHN    BAPTIST    MASSILLON. 

the  faith  given  in  baptism;  you  abjure  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ; 
you  are  an  apostate  from  rehgion,  and  trample  under  foot  the  most 
sacred  and  irrevocable  vows  that  man  can  make. 

Now,  what  is  this  world  which  you  ought  to  hate  ?  I  have  only 
to  answer  that  it  is  the  one  you  love.  You  will  never  mistake  it 
by  this  mark.  This  world  is  a  society  of  sinners,  whose  desires, 
fears,  hopes,  cares,  projects,  joys,  and  chagrins,  no  longer  turn  but 
upon  the  successes  or  misfortunes  of  this  life.  This  world  is  an  as- 
semblage of  people  who  look  upon  the  earth  as  their  country ;  the 
time  to  come  as  an  exilement ;  the  promises  of  faith  as  a  dream ; 
and  death  as  the  greatest  of  all  misfortunes.  This  world  is  a  tem- 
poral kingdom,  where  our  Saviour  is  unknown  ;  where  those  ac- 
quainted with  His  name,  glorify  Him  not  as  their  Lord,  hate  His 
maxims,  despise  His  followers,  and  neglect  or  insult  Him  in  His  sac- 
raments and  worship.  In  a  word,  to  give  a  proper  idea  at  once  of 
this  world,  it  is  the  vast  multitude.  Behold  the  world  which  you 
ought  to  shun,  hate,  and  war  against  by  your  example  ! 

Now,  is  this  your  situation  in  regard  to  the  world?  Are  its 
pleasures  a  fatigue  to  you?  Do  its  excesses  afflict  you?  Do  you 
regret  the  length  of  your  pilgrimage  here  ?  Or  on  the  contrary,  are 
not  its  laws  your  laws;  its  maxims  your  maxims?  What  it  con- 
demns, do  you  not  condemn  ?  "What  it  approves  do  you  not  ap- 
prove ?  And  should  it  happen,  that  you  alone  were  left  upon  the 
earth,  may  we  not  say  that  the  corrupt  world  would  be  revived  in 
you ;  and  that  you  would  leave  an  exact  model  of  it  to  your  230S- 
terity  ?  When  I  say  you,  I  mean,  and  I  address  myself  to  almost 
all  men. 

Where  are  those  who  sincerely  renounce  the  pleasures,  habits, 
maxims,  and  hopes  of  this  world  ?  We  find  many  who  complain  of 
it,  and  accuse  it  of  injustice,  ingratitude,  and  caprice;  who  speak 
warmly  of  its  abuses  and  errors.  But  in  decrying,  they  continue  to 
love  and  follow  it;  they  can  not  bring  themselves  to  do  without 
it.  In  complaining  of  its  injustice,  they  are  only  piqued  at  it,  they 
are  not  undeceived.  They  feel  its  hard  treatment,  but  they  are  un- 
acquainted with  its  dangers.  They  censure,  but  where  are  those  who 
hate  it?  And  now  my  brethren,  you  may  judge  if  many  can  have 
a  claim  to  salvation. 

In  the  second  place,  you  have  renounced  the  jiesh  at  your  baptism : 
that  is  to  say,  you  are  engaged  not  to  live  according  to  the  sensual 
appetites ;  to  regard  even  indolence  and  effeminacy  as  crimes  ;  not  to 
flatter  the  corrupt  desires  of  the  flesh  ;  but  to  chastise,  crush,  and 
crucify  it.     This  is  not  an  acquired  perfection;  it  is  a  vow :  it  is  the 


THE    SMALL    NUMBER    OF    THE    SAVED. 


151 


first  of  all  duties ;  the  character  of  a  true  Christian  and  inseparable 
from  faith.  In  a  word,  you  have  anathematized  Satan  and  all  his 
works.  And  what  are  his  works  ?  That  which  composes  almost  the 
thread  and  end  of  your  life ;  pomp,  pleasure,  luxurj^,  and  dissipa- 
tion ;  lying,  of  which  he  is  the  father ;  pride,  of  which  he  is  the 
mod6l ;  jealousy  and  contrition,  of  which  he  is  the  artisan. 

But  I  ask  you,  where  are  those  who  have  not  withdrawn  the 
anathema  they  had  pronounced  against  Satan  ?  Now,  consequently 
(to  mention  it  as  we  go  along),  behold  many  of  the  questions  an- 
swered! You  continually  demand  of  us,  if  theaters,  and  other 
public  places  of  amusement,  be  innocent  recreations  for  Christians  ? 
In  return,  I  have  only  one  question  to  ask  you  :  Are  they  the  works 
of  Satan  or  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  for  there  can  be  no  medium  in  religion. 
I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there  are  not  many  recreations  and  amuse- 
ments which  may  be  termed  indifferent.  But  the  most  indifferent 
pleasures  which  religion  allows,  and  which  the  weakness  of  our  na- 
ture renders  even  necessary,  belong,  in  one  sense,  to  Jesus  Christ,  by 
the  facility  with  which  they  ought  to  enable  us  to  apply  ourselves 
to  more  holy  and  more  serious  duties.  Every  thing  we  do,  every 
thing  we  rejoice  or  weep  at,  ought  to  be  of  such  a  nature  as  to  have 
a  connection  with  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  be  done  for  his  glory. 

Now,  upon  this  principle — the  most  incontestable,  and  most  uni- 
versally allowed  in  Christian  morality — you  have  only  to  decide 
whether  you  can  connect  the  glory  of  Jesus  Christ  with  the  pleasures 
of  a  theater.  Can  our  Saviour  have  any  part  in  such  a  species  of 
recreation  ?  And  before  you  enter  them,  can  you,  with  confidence, 
declare  to  Him  that,  in  so  doing,  you  only  propose  His  glory,  and 
to  enjoy  the  satisfaction  of  pleasing  Him!  What!  the  theaters, 
such  as  they  are  at  present,  still  more  criminal  by  the  public  licen- 
tiousness of  those  unfortunate  creatures  who  appear  on  them  than 
by  the  impure  and  passionate  scenes  they  represent — the  theaters 
works  of  Jesus  Christ  !  Jesus  Christ  would  animate  a  mouth, 
from  whence  are  to  proceed  lacivious  words,  adapted  to  corrupt  the 
heart !  But  these  blasphemies  strike  me  with  horror.  Jesus  Christ 
would  preside  in  assemblies  of  sin,  where  every  thing  we  hear  weakens 
His  doctrines  !  where  the  poison  enters  into  the  soul  through  all  the 
senses !  where  every  art  is  employed  to  inspire,  awaken,  and  justify 
the  passions  He  condemns !  Now,  says  Tertullian,  if  they  are  not 
the  works  of  Jesus  Christ,  they  must  be  the  works  of  Satan.  Every 
Christian,  therefore,  ought  to  abstain  from  them.  When  he  partakes 
of  them,  he  violates  the  vows  of  baptism.  However  innocent  he 
may  flatter  himself  to  be,  in  bringing  from  these  places  an  untainted 


152  JOHN   BAPTIST    MASSILLON. 

heart,  it  is  sullied  bj  being  there ;  since  by  his  presence  alone  he  has 
participated  in  the  works  of  Satan,  which  he  had  renounced  at  bap- 
tism, and  violated  the  most  sacred  promises  he  had  made  to  Jesus 
Christ  and  to  His  Church. 

These,  my  brethren,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  are  not  merely 
advices  and  pious  arts;  they  are  the  most  essential  of  our  obligations. 
But,  alas !  who  fulfills  them  ?  Who  even  knows  them  ?  Ah !  my 
brethren,  did  you  know  how  far  the  title  you  bear,  of  Christian, 
engages  you  ;  could  you  comprehend  the  sanctity  of  your  state  ;  the 
hatred  of  the  world,  of  yourself,  and  of  every  thing  which  is  not  of 
God,  that  it  enjoins  that  Gospel  life,  that  constant  watching,  that  guard 
over  the  passions,  in  a  word,  that  conformity  with  Jesus  Christ  cru- 
cified, which  it  exacts  of  you — could  you  comprehend  it,  could  you 
remember  that  as  you  ought  to  love  God  with  all  your  heart,  and  all 
your  strength,  a  single  desire  that  has  not  connection  with  Him  de- 
files you — you  would  appear  a  monster  in  your  own  sight.  How  ! 
you  would  exclaim.  Duties  so  holy,  and  morals  so  profane !  A 
vigilance  so  continual,  and  a  life  so  careless  and  dissipated  !  A  love 
of  God  so  pure,  so  complete,  so  universal,  and  a  heart  the  continual 
prey  of  a  thousand  impulses,  either  foreign  or  criminal !  If  thus  it 
is,  who,  0  my  God !  will  be  entitled  to  salvation  ?  Few  indeed,  I 
fear,  my  dear  hearers !  At  least  it  will  not  be  you  (unless  a  change 
takes  place),  nor  those  who  resemble  you ;  it  will  not  be  the  multi- 
tude ! 

Who  shall  be  saved  ?  Those  who  work  out  their  salvation  with 
fear  and  trembling ;  who  live  in  the  world  without  indulging  in  its 
vices.  Who  shall  be  saved  ?  That  Christian  woman,  who,  shut  up 
in  the  circle  of  her  domestic  duties,  rears  up  her  children  in  faith  and 
in  piety  ;  divides  her  heart  only  between  her  Saviour  and  her  hus- 
band; is  adorned  with  delicacy  and  modesty;  sits  not  down  in  the 
assemblies  of  vanity ;  makes  not  a  law  of  the  ridiculous  customs  of 
the  world,  but  regulates  those  customs  by  the  law  of  God ;  and  makes 
virtue  appear  more  amiable  by  her  rank  and  her  example.  Who 
shall  be  saved  ?  That  believer,  who,  in  the  relaxation  of  modern  times, 
imitates  the  manners  of  the  first  Cliristians — whose  hands  are  clean, 
and  his  heart  pure — who  is  watchful — who  hath  not  lift  up  his  soul 
to  vanity — but  who,  in  the  midst  of  the  dangers  of  the  great  world, 
continually  applies  himself  to  purify  it;  just — who  swears  not  de- 
ceitfull}'  against  his  neighbor,  nor  is  indebted  to  fraudulent  waj^s  for 
the  innocent  aggrandizement  of  his  fortune ;  generous — who  with 
benefits  repays  the  enemy  who  sought  his  ruin ;  sincere — who  sacri- 
fices not  the  truth  to  a  vile  interest,  and  knows  not  the  part  of  render- 


THE    SMALL    NUMBER    OF    THE    SAVED,  I53 

ing  himself  agreeable,  by  betraying  bis  conscience  ;  cbaritable — who 
makes  bis  bouse  and  interest  tbe  refuge  of  bis  fellow-creatures,  and 
bimself  tbe  consolation  of  tbe  afflicted ;  regards  bis  wealth  as  tbe 
property  of  tbe  poor ;  bumble  in  affliction — a  Christian  under  in- 
juries, and  penitent  even  in  prosperity.  Who  will  merit  salvation? 
You,  my  dear  bearer,  if  you  will  follow  these  examples ;  for  such 
are  the  souls  to  be  saved.  Now  these  assuredly  do  not  form  the 
greatest  number.  While  you  continue,  therefore,  to  live  like  the 
multitude,  it  is  a  striking  proof  that  3^ou  disregard  your  salvation. 

These,  my  brethren,  are  truths  which  should  make  us  tremble ! 
nor  are  they  those  vague  ones  which  are  told  to  all  men,  and  which 
none  apply  to  themselves.  Perhaps  there  is  not  in  this  assembly  an 
individual  who  may  not  say  of  himself,  "  I  live  like  the  great  number ; 
like  those  of  my  rank,  age,  and  situation ;  I  am  lost,  should  I  die  in 
this  path."  Now,  can  any  thing  be  more  capable  of  alarming  a  soul, 
in  whom  some  remains  of  care  for  his  salvation  still  exist?  It  is  the 
multitude,  nevertheless,  who  tremble  not.  There  is  only  a  small 
number  of  the  just  who  work  out  severally  their  salvation,  with  fear 
and  trembling.  All  the  rest  are  tranquil.  After  having  lived  with 
tbe  multitude,  they  flatter  themselves  they  shall  be  particularized  at 
death.  Every  one  augurs  favorably  for  bimself,  and  vainly  imagines 
that  he  shall  be  an  exception. 

On  this  account  it  is,  my  brethren,  that  I  confine  myself  to  you 
who  are  now  here  assembled.  I  include  not  the  rest  of  men ;  but 
consider  you  as  alone  existing  on  tbe  earth.  The  idea  which  fills  and 
terrifies  me,  is  this — I  figure  to  myself  tbe  present  as  your  last  hour, 
and  the  end  of  the  world !  the  heavens  opening  above  your  beads — 
tbe  Saviour,  in  all  His  glory,  about  to  appear  in  the  midst  of  His 
temple — you  only  assembled  here  as  trembling  criminals,  to  wait  His 
coming,  and  bear  the  sentence,  either  of  life  eternal,  or  everlasting 
death  !  for  it  is  vain  to  flatter  yourselves  that  you  shall  die  more  in- 
nocent than  you  are  at  this  hour.  All  those  desires  of  change  with 
which  you  are  amused,  will  continue  to  amuse  you  till  death  arrives. 
The  experience  of  all  ages  proves  it.  Tbe  only  difference  you  have 
to  expect,  will  most  likely  be  only  a  larger  balance  against  you  than 
what  you  would  have  to  answer  for  now  ;  and  from  what  would  be 
your  destiny,  were  you  to  be  judged  this  moment,  you  may  almost 
decide  upon  what  it  will  be  at  death.  Now,  I  ask  you — and,  con- 
necting my  own  lot  with  yours,  I  ask  it  with  dread — were  Jesus 
Christ  to  appear  in  this  temple,  in  the  midst  of  this  assembly,  to 
judge  us,  to  make  the  awful  separation  between  the  sheep  and 
tbe  goats,  do  you  believe  that  tbe  most  of  us  would  be  placed  at 


15-i  .  JOHN    BAPTIST    MASSILLON. 

His  right  hand  ?  Do  you  believe  that  the  number  would  at  least  be 
equal  ?  Do  yon  believe  that  there  would  even  be  found  ten  upright 
and  faithful  servants  of  the  Lord,  when  formerly  ^ve  cities  could  not 
furnish  that  number  ?  I  ask  you !  You  know  not !  I  know  it 
not !     Thou  alone,  0  my  God  !  knowest  who  belong  to  Thee. 

But  if  we  know  not  who  belong  to  Him,  at  least  we  know  that 
sinners  do  not.  Now,  who  are  the  just  and  faithful  assembled  here 
at  present  ?  Titles  and  dignities  avail  nothing  ;  you  are  stripped  of 
all  these  in  the  presence  of  your  Saviour !  Who  are  they  ?  Many 
sinners  who  wish  not  to  be  converted ;  many  more  who  wish,  but 
always  put  it  off;  many  others  who  are  only  converted  in  appear- 
ance, and  again  fall  back  to  their  former  course  ;  in  a  word,  a  great 
number,  who  flatter  themselves  they  have  no  occasion  for  conver- 
sion. This  is  the  party  of  the  reprobate  !  Ah !  my  brethren,  cut 
off  from  this  assembly  these  four  classes  of  sinners,  for  they  will  be 
cut  off  at  the  great  day !  And  now  stand  forth  ye  righteous : — 
where  are  ye  ?  0  God !  where  are  Thine  elect !  What  remains  as 
Thy  portion ! 

My  brethren,  our  ruin  is  almost  certain  !  Yet  we  think  not  of 
it !  If  in  this  terrible  separation,  which  will  one  day  take  place,  there 
should  be  but  one  sinner  in  the  assembly  on  the  side  of  the  repro- 
bate, and  a  voice  from  heaven  should  assure  us  of  it,  without  particular- 
izing him,  who  of  us  would  not  tremble,  lest  he  should  be  the  unfor- 
tunate and  devoted  wretch  ?  Who  of  us  would  not  immediately 
apply  to  his  conscience,  to  examine  if  its  crimes  merited  not  this 
punishment  ?  Who  of  us,  seized  with  dread,  would  not  demand  of 
our  Saviour,  as  did  the  Apostles,  crying  out,  "  Lord,  is  it  I?"  And 
should  a  small  respite  be  allowed  to  our  prayers,  who  of  us  would 
not  use  every  effort,  by  tears,  supplication,  and  sincere  repentance, 
to  avert  the  misfortune? 

Are  we  in  our  senses,  my  dear  hearers?  Perhaps  among  all 
who  listen  to  me  now,  ten  righteous  ones  would  not  be  found.  It 
may  be  fewer  still.  What  do  I  perceive,  0  my  God!  I  dare  not, 
with  a  fixed  eye,  regard  the  depths  of  Thy  judgments  and  justice! 
Not  more  than  one,  perhaps,  would  be  found  among  us  all !  And 
this  danger  affects  you  not,  my  dear  hearer !  You  persuade  your- 
self that  in  this  great  number  who  shall  perish,  you  will  be  the 
happy  individual!  You,  who  have  less  reason,  perhaps,  than  any 
other  to  believe  it!  You,  upon  whom  alone  the  sentence  of  death 
should  fill,  were  only  one  of  all  who  hear  me  to  suffer !  Great  God  ! 
how  little  are  the  terrors  of  Thy  law  known  to  the  world  ?  In  all 
ages,  the  just  have  shuddered  with  dread,  in  reflecting  on  the  severity 


THE    SMALL    NUMBER    OF    THE    SAYED.  I55 

and  extent  of  Thy  judgments,  touching  the  destinies  of  menl 
Alas  !  what  are  they  laying  up  in  store  for  the  sons  of  men  ! 

But  what  are  we  to  conclude  from  these  awful  truths?  That  all 
must  despair  of  salvation  ?  God  forbid !  The  impious  alone,  to 
quiet  his  own  feelings  in  his  debaucheries,  endeavors  to  persuade 
himself  that  all  men  shall  perish  as  well  as  he.  This  idea  ought  not 
to  be  the  fruit  of  the  present  discourse.  It  is  intended  to  undeceive 
.you  with  regard  to  the  general  error,  that  any  one  may  do  whatever 
is  done  by  others.  To  convince  you  that,  in  order  to  merit  salvation, 
you  must  distinguish  yourself  from  the  rest ;  that  in  the  midst  of  the 
world  you  are  to  live  for  (jod's  glory,  and  not  follow  after  the  multi- 
tude. 

When  the  Jews  were  led  in  captivity  from  Judea  to  Babylon,  a 
little  before  they  quitted  their  own  country,  the  prophet  Jeremiah, 
whom  the  Lord  had  forbid  to  leave  Jerusalem,  spoke  thus  to  them : 
"Children  of  Israel,  when  you  shall  arrive  at  Babylon,  you  will  be- 
hold the  inhabitants  of  that  country,  who  carry  upon  their  shoulders 
gods  of  silver  and  gold.  All  the  people  will  prostrate  themselves, 
and  adore  them.  But  you,  far  from  allowing  yourselves,  by  these 
examples,  to  be  led  to  impiety,  say  to  yourselves  in  secret,  It  is 
Thou,  O  Lord  !  whom  we  ought  to  adore." 

Let  me  now  finish,  by  addressing  to  you  the  same  words. 

At  your  departure  from  this  temple,  you  go  to  enter  into  another 
Babylon.  You  go  to  see  idols  of  gold  and  silver,  before  which  all 
men  prostrate  themselves.  You  go  to  regain  the  vain  objects  of 
human  j3assions,  wealth,  glory,  and  pleasure,  which  are  the  gods  of 
this  world,  and  which  almost  all  men  adore.  You  will  see  those 
abuses  which  all  the  world  permits,  those  errors  which  custom 
authorizes,  and  those  debaucheries,  which  an  infamous  fashion  has 
almost  constituted  as  laws.  Then,  my  dear  hearer,  if  you  wish  to  be 
of  the  small  number  of  true  Israelites,  say,  in  the  secrecy  of  your 
heart,  "  It  is  Thou  alone,  O  my  God !  whom  we  ought  to  adore.  I 
wish  not  to  have  connection  with  a  people  which  know  Thee  not ;  I 
will  have  no  other  law  than  Thy  holy  law ;  the  gods  which  this 
foolish,  multitude  adores,  are  not  gods :  they  are  the  work  of  the 
hands  of  men  ;  they  will  perish  with  them :  Thou  alone,  0  my  God ! 
are  immortal ;  and  Thou  alone  deservest  to  be  adored.  The  cus- 
toms of  Babylon  have  no  connection  with  the  holy  laws  of  Jerusa- 
lem. I  will  continue  to  worship  Thee  with  that  small  number  of  the 
children  of  Abraham  which  still,  in  the  midst  of  an  infidel  nation, 
composes  Thy  people  ;  with  them  I  will  turn  all  my  desires  toward 
the  holy  Zion.     The  singularity  of  my  manners  will  be  regarded  as 


156  JOHN    BAPTIST    MASSILLON. 

a  weakness  ;  but  blessed  weakness,  O  my  Grod  !  whicli  will  give  me 
strength  to  resist  the  torrent  of  customs,  and  the  seduction  of  exam- 
ple. Thon  wilt  be  my  God  in  the  midst  of  Babylon,  as  Thou  wilt 
one  day  be  in  Jerusalem  above !" 

"  Ah !  the  time  of  the  captivity  will  at  last  expire.  Thou  wilt 
call  to  Thy  remembrance  Abraham  and  David.  Thou  wilt  deliver 
Thy  people.  Thou  wilt  transport  us  to  the  holy  city.  Then  wilt 
Thou  alone  reign  over  Israel,  and  over  the  nations  which  at  present 
know  Thee  not.  All  being  destroyed,  all  the  empires  of  the  earth, 
all  the  monuments  of  human  pride  annihilated,  and  Thou  alone  re- 
maining eternal,  we  then  shall  know  that  Thou  art  the  Lord  of  hosts, 
and  the  only  God  to  be  adored  ! 

Behold  the  fi'uit  which  you  ought  to  reap  from  this  discourse ! 
Live  apart.  Think,  without  ceasing,  that  the  great  number  work 
their  own  destruction.  Eegard  as  nothing  all  customs  of  the  earth, 
unless  authorized  by  the  law  of  God,  and  remember  that  holy  men 
in  all  ages  have  been  looked  upon  as  a  peculiar  people. 

It  is  thus  that,  after  distinguishing  yourselves  from  the  sinful  on 
earth,  you  will  be  gloriously  distinguished  from  them  in  eternity  ! 

Now,  to  God  the  Father,  etc. 


DISCOURSE    FIFTY-FOURTH. 

JAMES    SAURIN. 

This  eniinent  Protestant  divine  was  born  at  Nismes,  in  the  year 
1677,  and  went  with  his  pious  father  into  exile,  to  Geneva,  after  the 
repeal  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  When  seventeen  years  of  age  he  left 
his  studies  and  became  a  cadet  in  the  army ;  but  in  a  few  years  he  re- 
turned to  the  study  of  Philosophy  and  Divinity ;  and  in  the  year  1 705  was 
chosen  pastor  at  the  Hague,  where  he  acquired  great  celebrity  as  a 
preacher,  and  where,  also,  his  career  was  terminated  by  death  in  the 
year  1730. 

Saurin  possessed  vast  intellectual  powers,  and  an  imagiaation  that 
has  rarely  been  equaled.  He  was  less  artificial,  and  more  careless  and 
melegant,  than  the  three  great  Catholic  preachers,  but  not  less  effective. 
It  has  been  said  that  his  utterances  were  hke  torrents  of  fire,  and  their 
immediate  influence  often  equal  to  their  character.  His  sermons  were 
published  in  twelve  volumes  ;  and  the  Rev.  Robert  Robinson,  by  trans- 
lating a  large  number  of  them  into  English  (published  in  England  in 
six  volumes,  in  this  country  in  two),  imniortalized  his  o^\ti  name  and 
that  of  the  joreacher  whom  he  so  fiirly  and  gracefully  introduced  to 
Enghsh  readers.  Perhaps  no  translation  ever  retained  more  faithfully 
the  spirit  of  the  original.  Indeed  the  sermons  have  lost  nothing  by  a 
change  of  language.  Saurin  will  always  be  read  for  his  Aveighty  doc- 
trmal  instruction,  and  his  pure,  imaffected,  and  eloquent  style.  A  dis- 
tinguished Theological  Professor  has  pronounced  the  discourse  which 
follows  Saurin's  masterpiece,  and,  in  point  of  structure  and  composi- 
tion, equal  to  ahuost  any  sermon  in  any  language. 


THE  NATURE  AND  CONTROL  OF  THE  PASSIONS. 

"  Dearly  beloved,  I  beseech  you  as  strangers  and  pilgrims,  abstain  from  fleshly  lusts, 
which  war  against  the  soul." — 1  Peter,  ii.  1. 

The  words  you  have  heard,  my  brethren,  offer  four  subjects  of 
meditation  to  your  minds.     First,  the  nature  of  the  passions — sec- 


158  JAMES    SAURIN. 

ondly,  the  disorders  of  them — tliirdly,  the  remedies  to  be  applied — 
and  lastly,  the  motives  that  engage  us  to  subdue  them.  In  the  first 
place  we  will  give  you  a  general  idea  of  what  the  Apostle  calls 
"  fleshly  lusts,"  or,  in  modern  style,  the  passions.  We  will  examine 
secondly,  the  war  which  they  wage  "  against  the  soul."  Our  third 
part  will  inform  you  of  the  means  of  abstaining  from  these  fleshly 
lusts.  And  in  the  last  place  we  will  endeavor  to  make  you  feel  the 
power  of  this  motive,  "as  strangers  and  pilgrims,"  and  to  press 
home  this  exhortation  of  the  Apostle,  "  Dearly  beloved,  I  beseech 
you  as  strangers  and  pilgrims,  abstain  from  fleshly  lusts,  which  war 
against  the  soul." 

I.  In  order  to  understand  the  nature  of  the  passions,  we  wiU 
explain  the  subject  by  a  few  preliminary  remarks. 

1.  An  intelligent  being  ought  to  love  every  thing  that  can  ele- 
vate, perpetuate,  and  make  him  happy  ;  and  to  avoid  whatever  can 
degrade,  confine,  and  render  him  miserable.  This,  far  from  being  a 
human  depravity,  is  a  perfection  of  nature.  Man  has  it  inv common 
with  celestial  intelligences,  and  with  God  Himself.  This  reflection 
removes  a  false  sense,  which  the  language  of  St.  Peter  may  seem  at 
first  to  convey,  as  if  the  Apostle  meant  by  eradicating  '•  fleshly  lusts" 
to  destroy  the  true  interests  of  man.  The  most  ancient  enemies  of 
the  Christian  religion  loaded  it  with  this  reproach,  becau.se  they  did 
not  understand  it ;  and  some  superficial  people,  who  know  no  more  of 
religion  than  the  surface,  pretended  to  render  it  odious  by  the  same 
means.  Under  pretense  that  the  Christian  religion  forbids  ambition, 
they  say  it  degrades  man,  and  under  pretense  that  it  forbids  mis- 
guided self-love,  they  say  it  makes  man  miserable.  A  gross  error  1 
A  false  idea  of  Christianity !  If  the  Gospel  humbles,  it  is  to  elevate 
us ;  if  it  forbids  a  self-love  ill-directed,  it  is  in  order  to  conduct  us 
to  substantial  happiness.  By  "  fleshly  lusts,"  St.  Peter  does  not  mean 
such  desires  of  the  heart  as  put  us  on  aspiring  after  real  happiness 
and  true  glory. 

2.  An  inteUigent  being  united  to  a  body,  and  lodged,  if  I  may 
speak  so,  in  a  portion  of  matter  under  this  law,  that  according  to 
the  divers  motions  of  this  matter  he  shall  receive  sensations  of  pleas- 
ure or  pain,  must  naturall}^  love  to  excite  within  himself  sensations 
of  pleasure,  and  to  avoid  painful  feelings.  This  is  agreeable  to  the 
institution  of  the  Creator.  He  intends,  for  reasons  of  adorable  wis- 
dom, to  preserve  a  societ}^  of  mankind  for  several  ages  on  earth. 
To  accomplish  this  design,  He  has  so  ordered  it  that  what  contrib- 
utes to  the  support  of  the  body  shall  give  the  soul  jDleasure,  and 
that  which  would  dissolve  it  would  give  pain,  so  that  by  these  means 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OP    THE    PASSIONS.        I59 

we  may  preserve  ourselves.  Aliments  are  agreeable ;  tlie  dissolu- 
tion of  tlie  parts  of  our  bodies  is  painful ;  love,  hatred,  and  anger, 
properly  understood,  and  exercised  to  a  certain  degree,  are  natural 
and  fit.  The  Stoics,  who  annihilated  the  passions,  did  not  know 
man,  and  the  schoolmen,  who  to  comfort  people  under  the  gout  or 
the  stone,  told  them  that  a  rational  man  ought  not  to  pay  any  regard 
to  what  passed  in  his  body,  never  made  many  disciples  among  wise 
men.  This  observation  affords  us  a  second  clew  to  the  meaning  of 
the  Apostle :  at  least  it  gives  us  a  second  precaution  to  avoid  an 
error.  By  "  fleshly  lusts"  he  does  not  mean  a  natural  inclination  to 
preserve  the  body  and  the  ease  of  life  ;  he  allows  love,  hatred,  and 
anger,  to  a  certain  degree,  and  as  far  as  the  exercise  of  them  does 
not  prejudice  a  greater  interest.  Observe  well  this  last  expression, 
as  far  as  may  be  without  prejudice  to  a  greater  interest.  The  truth 
of  our  second  reflection  depends  on  this  restriction. 

3.  A  being  composed  of  two  substances,  one  of  which  is  more 
excellent  than  the  other ;  a  being  placed  between  two  interests,  one 
of  which  is  greater  than  the  other,  ought,  when  these  two  interests 
clash,  to  prefer  the  more  noble  before  the  less  noble,  the  greater  in- 
terest before  the  less.  This  third  principle  is  a  third  clew  to  what 
St.  Peter  calls  "  lusts,"  or  passions.  Man  has  two  substances,  and 
two  interests.  As  far  as  he  can  without  prejudicing  his  eternal  in- 
terest he  ought  to  endeavor  to  promote  his  temporal  interest :  but 
when  the  two  clash  he  ought  to  sacrifice  the  less  to  the  greater. 
"  Fleshly  lusts"  is  put  for  what  is  irregular  and  depraved  in  our  de- 
sires, and  what  makes  us  prefer  the  body  before  the  soul,  a  temporal 
before  an  eternal  interest.  That  this  is  the  meaning  of  the  Apostle 
is  clear  from  his  calling  these  passions  or  "lusts  fleshly."  Wliat  is 
the  meaning  of  this  word  ?  The  Scripture  generally  uses  the  word 
in  two  senses.  Sometimes  it  is  literally  and  properly  put  for  flesh, 
and  sometimes  it -signifies  sin.  St.  Peter  calls  the  passions  "fleshly" 
in  both  these  senses ;  in  the  first,  because  some  come  from  the  body, 
as  voluptuousness,  anger,  drunkenness ;  and  in  the  second,  because 
they  spring  from  our  depravity.  Hence  the  Apostle  Paul  puts 
among  the  works  of  the  flesh  both  those  which  have  their  seat  in 
the  body,  and  those  which  have  in  a  manner  no  connection  Avith  it, 
"  Now  the  works  of  the  flesh  are  these,  adulter}^,  lasciviousness, 
idolatry,  heresies,  envyings."  According  to  this  the  "  works  of  the 
flesh"  are  not  only  such  as  are  seated  in  the  flesh  (for  envy  and 
heresy  can  not  be  of  this  sort),  but  all  depraved  dispositions. 

This  is  a  general  idea  of  the  passions  :  but  as  it  is  vague  and  ob- 
scure, we  will  endeavor  to  explain  it  more  distinctly,  and  with  this 


160  JAMES    SAURIN. 

view  we  will  sliow — first,  what  tlie  passions  do  in  the  mind — next, 
what  they  do  in  the  senses — thirdly,  what  they  are  in  the  imagina- 
tion— and  lastly,  what  they  are  in  the  heart.  Four  portraits  of  the 
passions,  four  explications  of  the  condition  of  man.  In  order  to 
connect  the  matter  more  closely,  as  we  show  you  what  "  fleshly  lusts" 
are  in  these  four  views,  we  will  endeavor  to  convince  you  that  in 
these  four  respects  they  "  war  against  the  soul."  The  second  part  of 
our  discourse,  therefore,  which  was  to  treat  of  the  disorders  of  the 
passions,  will  be  included  in  the  first,  which  explains  their  nature. 

1.  The  passions  produce  in  the  mind  a  strong  attention  to  what- 
ever can  justify  and  gratify  them.  The  most  odious  objects  may  be 
so  placed  as  to  appear  agreeable,  and  the  most  lovely  objects  so  as 
to  appear  odious.  There  is  no  absurdity  so  palpable  but  it  may  be 
made  to  appear  likely ;  and  there  is  no  truth  so  clear  but  it  may  be 
made  to  appear  doubtful.  A  passionate  man  fixes  all  the  attention 
of  his  mind  on  such  sides  of  objects  as  favor  his  passion,  and  this  is 
the  source  of  innumerable  false  judgings,  of  which  we  are  every 
day  witnesses  and  authors. 

If  you  observe  all  the  passions,  you  will  find  they  have  all  this 
character.  What  is  vengeance  in  the  mind  of  a  vindictive  man  ?  It 
is  a  fixed  attention  to  all  the  favorable  lights  in  which  vengeance 
may  be  considered ;  it  is  a  continual  study  to  avoid  every  odious 
light  in  which  the  subject  may  be  placed.  On  the  one  side  there  is 
a  certain  deity  in  the  world,  who  has  made  revenge  a  law.  This 
deity  is  worldly  honor,  and  at  the  bar  of  this  judge  to  forget  inju- 
ries is  mean,  and  to  pardon  them  cowardice.  On  the  other  side 
vengeance  disturbs  society,  usurps  the  of&ce  of  a  magistrate,  and 
violates  the  precepts  of  religion.  A  dispassionate  man,  examining 
without  prejudice  this  question.  Ought  I  to  revenge  the  injury  I 
have  received  ?  would  weigh  all  these  motives,  consider  each  apart, 
and  all  together,  and  would  determine  to  act  according  as  the  most 
just  and  weighty  reasons  should  determine  him :  but  a  revengeful 
man  considers  none  but  the  first,  he  pays  no  attention  to  the  last ; 
he  always  exclaims  my  honor,  my  honor;  he  never  says  my  religion 
and  my  salvation. 

What  is  hatred  ?  It  is  a  close  attention  to  a  man's  imperfections. 
Is  any  man  free  ?  Is  any  man  so  imperfect  as  to  have  nothing  good 
in  him  ?  Is  there  nothing  to  compensate  his  defects  ?  This  man  is 
not  handsome,  but  he  is  wise  :  his  genius  is  not  lively,  but  his  heart 
is  sincere :  he  can  not  assist  you  with  money,  but  he  can  give  you. 
much  good  advice,  supported  by  an  excellent  example :  he  is  not 
either  prince,  king,  or  emperor,  but  he  is  a  man,  a  Christian,  a  be- 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OF    THE    PASSIONS.     1^1 

liever,  and  in  all  these  respects  lie  deserves  esteem.  The  passionate 
man  turns  away  his  eyes  from  all  these  advantageous  sides,  and 
attends  only  to  the  rest.  Is  it  astonishing  that  he  hates  a  person  in 
whom  he  sees  nothing  but  imperfection  ?  Thus  a  counselor  opens 
and  sets  forth  his  cause  with  such  artifice  that  law  seems  to  be  clearly 
on  his  side ;  he  forgets  one  fact,  suppresses  one  circumstance,  omits 
to  draw  one  inference,  which  being  brought  forward  to  view,  entirely 
change  the  nature  of  the  subject,  and  his  client  loses  his  cause.  In 
the  same  manner,  a  defender  of  a  false  religion  always  revolves  in 
his  mind  the  arguments  that  seem  to  establish  it,  and  never  recollects 
those  which  subvert  it.  lie  will  curtail  a  sentence,  cut  off  what  goes 
before,  leave  out  what  follows,  and  retain  only  such  detached  expres- 
sions as  seem  to  countenance  his  error,  but  which  in  connection  with 
the  rest  would  strip  it  of  all  probabilitj^  What  is  still  more  singular 
is,  that  love  to  true  religion,  that  love  which,  under  the  direction  of 
reason,  opens  a  wide  field  of  argument  and  evidence,  engages  us  in 
this  sort  of  false  judging,  when  we  give  ourselves  up  to  it  through 
passion  or  prejudice. 

This  is  what  the  passions  do  in  the  mind,  and  it  is  easy  to  com- 
prehend the  reason  St.  Peter  had  to  say  in  this  view,  "  fleshly  lusts 
war  against  the  soul."  Certainly  one  of  the  noblest  advantages  of  a 
man  is  to  reason,  to  examine  proofs  and  weigh  motives,  to  consider 
an  object  on  every  side,  to  combine  the  various  arguments  that  are 
alleged  either  for  or  against  a  proposition,  in  order  on  these  grounds 
to  regulate  our  ideas  and  opinions,  our  hatred  and  our  love.  The 
passionate  man  renounces  this  advantage,  he  never  reasons  in  a  pas- 
sion, his  mind  is  limited,  his  soul  is  in  chains,  his  "fleshly  passions 
war  against  his  soul." 

Having  examined  the  passions  in  the  mind,  let  us  consider  them 
in  the  senses.  To  comprehend  this,  recollect  what  we  just  now  said, 
that  the  passions  owe  their  origin  to  the  Creator,  who  instituted  them 
for  the  purpose  of  preserving  us.  When  an  object  would  injure 
health  or  life,  it  is  necessary  to  our  safety  that  there  should  be  an 
emotion  in  our  senses  to  affect  a  quick  escape  from  the  danger ;  fear 
does  this.  A  man  struck  with  the  idea  of  sudden  danger  has 
a  rapidity  which  he  could  not  have  in  a  tranquil  state,  or  during  a 
cool  trial  of  his  power.  It  is  necessary,  when  an  enemy  approaches 
to  destroy  us,  that  our  senses  should  so  move  as  to  animate  us  with 
a  power  of  resistance.  Anger  does  this,  for  it  is  a  collection  of  spir- 
its— but  allow  me  to  borrow  here  the  words  of  a  modern  philosopher, 
who  has  admirably  expressed  the  motions  excited  by  the  passions 
in  our  bodies.     "Before  the  sight  of  an  object  of  passion,"  says 

11 


162  JAMES    SAUEIN. 

he,  "  the  spirits  were  diffased  tlirougli  all  the  body  to  preserve  everj 
part  alike,  but  on  the  appearance  of  this  new  object  the  whole  system 
is  shaken ;  the  greater  part  of  the  animal  spirits  rush  into  all  the 
exterior  parts  of  the  body,  in  order  to  put  it  into  a  condition  proper 
to  produce  such  motions  as  are  necessary  to  acquire  the  good,  or  to 
avoid  the  evil  now  present.  If  it  happen  that  the  power  of  man  is 
unequal  to  his  wants,  these  same  spirits  distribute  themselves  so  as 
to  make  him  utter  mechanically  certain  words  and  cries,  and  so  as 
to  spread  over  his  countenance  and  over  the  rest  of  his  body  an  air 
capable  of  agitating  others  with  the  same  passion  with  which  he  him- 
self is  moved.  For  as  men  and  other  animals  are  united  together  by 
eyes  and  ears,  when  any  one  is  agitated  he  necessarily  shakes  all 
others  that  see  and  hear  him,  and  naturally  produces  painful  feel- 
ings in  their  imaginations,  which  interest  them  in  his  relief.  The 
rest  of  the  spirits  rush  violently  into  the  heart,  the  lungs,  the  liver, 
and  the  other  vitals,  in  order  to  lay  all  these  parts  under  contribu- 
tion, and  hastily  to  derive  from  them  as  quick  as  possible  the  spirits 
necessary  for  the  preservation  of  the  body  in  these  extraordinary 
efforts."  Such  are  the  movements  excited  by  the  passions  in  the 
senses,  and  all  these  to  a  certain  degree  are  necessary  for  the  preserv- 
ation of  our  bodies,  and  are  the  institutions  of  our  Creator :  but 
three  things  are  necessary  to  preserve  order  in  these  emotions.  First, 
they  must  never  be  excited  in  the  body  without  the  direction  of  the 
will  and  the  reason.  Secondly,  they  must  always  be  proportional,  I 
mean,  the  emotion  of  fear,  for  example,  must  never  be,  except  in 
sight  of  objects  capable  of  hurting  us ;  the  emotion  of  anger  must 
never  be,  except  in  sight  of  an  enemy  who  actually  has  both  the 
will  and  the  power  of  injuring  our  well-being.  And  thirdly,  they 
must  always  stop  when  and  where  we  will  they  should.  When  the 
passions  subvert  this  order,  they  violate  three  wise  institutes  of  our 
Creator, 

The  emotions  excited  by  the  passions  in  our  senses  are  not/ree. 
An  angry  man  is  carried  beyond  himself  in  spite  of  himself.  A 
voluptuous  man  receives  a  sensible  impression  from  an  exterior 
object,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  dictates  of  reason  throws  himself  into  a 
flaming  fire  that  consumes  him. 

The  emotions  excited  by  the  passions  in  our  senses  are  not  pro- 
23ortional ;  I  mean  that  a  timorous  man,  for  example,  turns  as  pale 
at  the  sight  of  a  fanciful  as  of  a  real  danger ;  he  sometimes  fears  a 
phantom  and  a  substance  alike.  A  man  "  whose  god  is  his  belly," 
feels  his  appetite  as  much  excited  by  a  dish  fatal  to  his  health  as 
by  one  necessary  to  support  his  strength,  and  to  keep  him  alive. 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OF    THE    PASSIONS.     1^3 

The  emotions  excited  by  the  passions  in  our  senses  do  not  obe}^ 
the  orders  of  our  ivill.  The  movement  is  an  overflow  of  spirits 
which  no  reflections  can  restrain.  It  is  not  a  gentle  fire  to  give  the 
blood  a  warmth  necessary  to  its  circulation ;  it  is  a  volcano  pouring 
out  its  flame  all  liquid  and  destructive  on  every  side.  It  is  not  a 
gentle  stream,  purling  in  its  proper  bed,  meandering  through  the 
fields,  and  moistening,  refreshing,  and  invigorating  them  as  it  goes, 
but  it  is  a  rapid  flood,  breaking  down  all  its  banks,  carrying  every 
where  mire  and  mud,  sweeping  away  the  harvest,  subverting  hills 
and  trees,  and  carrying  away  every  thing  on  all  sides  that  oppose  its 
passage.  This  is  what  the  passions  do  in  the  senses,  and  do  you  not 
conceive,  my  brethren,  that  in  this  second  respect  they  "  war  against 
the  soul  ?" 

They  "  war  against  the  soul"  by  the  disorders  they  introduce  into 
that  body  which  they  ought  to  preserve.  They  dissipate  the  spirits, 
weaken  the  memory,  wear  out  the  brain.  Behold  those  trembling 
hands,  those  discolored  eyes,  that  body  bent  and  bowed  down  to  the 
ground — these  are  the  effects  of  violent  passions.  When  the  body 
is  in  such  a  state,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  that  the  soul  suffers  with  it. 
The  union  between  the  two  is  so  close  that  the  alteration  of  the  one 
necessarily  alters  the  other.  When  the  capacity  of  the  soul  is  ab- 
sorbed by  painful  sensations,  we  are  incapable  of  attending  to  truth. 
If  the  spirits  necessary  to  support  us  in  meditation  be  dissipated,  we 
can  no  longer  meditate.  If  the  brain,  which  must  be  of  a  certain 
consistence  to  receive  impressions  of  objects,  has  lost  that  consistence, 
it  can  recover  it  no  more. 

They  "  war  against  the  soul"  by  disconcerting  the  whole  economy 
of  man,  and  by  making  him  consider  such  sensations  of  pleasure  as 
Providence  gave  him  only  for  the  sake  of  engaging  him  to  preserve 
his  body  as  a  sort  of  supreme  good,  worthy  of  all  his  care  and  atten- 
tion for  its  own  sake. 

They  "  war  against  the  soul"  because  they  reduce  it  to  a  state  of 
slavery  to  the  body,  over  which  it  ought  to  rule.  Is  any  thing  more 
unworthy  of  an  immortal  soul  than  to  follow  no  other  rule  of  judg- 
ing than  an  agitation  of  the  organs  of  the  body,  the  heat  of  the  blood, 
the  motion  of  animal  spirits  ?  And  does  not  this  daily  happen  to  a 
passionate  man  ?  A  man  who  reasons  fairly  when  his  senses  are 
tranquil,  does  he  not  reason  like  an  idiot  when  his  senses  are  agi- 
tated ?  Cool  and  dispassionate,  he  thinks  he  ought  to  eat  and  drink 
only  what  is  necessary  to  support  his  health  and  his  life — at  most  to 
''  receive  with  thanksgiving"  such  innocent  pleasures  as  religion 
allows  him  to  enjoy  ;  but  when  his  senses  are  agitated,  his  taste  be- 


154  JAMES    SAUKIN. 

comes  dainty,  and  lie  thinks  lie  may  glut  himself  with  food,  drown 
himself  in  wine,  and  give  himself  up  without  reserve,  to  all  the 
excesses  of  voluptuousness.  When  his  senses  were  cool  and  tranquil, 
he  thought  it  sufiicient  to  oppose  precautions  of  prudence  against  the 
designs  of  an  enemy  to  his  injury :  but  when  his  senses  are  agitated 
he  thinks  he  ought  to  attack  him,  fall  on  him,  stab  him,  kill  him. 
When  he  was  cool  he  was  free,  he  was  a  sovereign,  but  now  that  his 
senses  are  agitated,  he  is  a  subject,  he  is  a  slave.  Base  submission  ! 
Unworthy  slavery  !  We  blusli  for  human  nature  when  we  see  it  in 
such  bondage.  Behold  that  man,  he  has  as  many  virtues,  perhaps 
more,  than  most  men.  Examine  him  on  the  article  of  good  breed- 
ing. He  perfectly  understands,  and  scrupulously  observes  all  the 
laws  •  of  it.  Examine  him  on  the  point  of  disinterestedness.  He 
abounds  in  it,  and  to  see  the  manner  in  which,  he  gives,  you  would 
say  he  thought  he  increased  his  fortune  by  bestowing  it  in  acts  of 
benevolence.  Examine  him  concerning  religion.  He  respects  the 
majesty  of  it,  he  always  pronounces  the  name  of  God  with  venera- 
tion, he  never  thinks  of  His  works  without  admiration,  or  His  attri- 
butes without  reverence  or  fear.  Place  this  man  at  a  gaming  table, 
put  the  dice  or  the  cards  in  his  hand,  and  you  will  know  him  no 
more ;  he  loses  all  self-possession,  he  forgets  politeness,  disinterested- 
ness, and  religion,  he  insults  his  fellow-creatures,  and  blasphemes  his 
Grod.  His  soul  teems  with  avarice,  his  body  is  distorted,  his  thoughts 
are  troubled,  his  temper  is  changed,  his  countenance  turns  pale,  his 
eyes  sparkle,  his  mouth  foams,  his  spirits  are  in  a  flame,  he  is  another 
man,  no,  it  is  not  a  man,  it  is  a  wild  beast,  it  is  a  devil. 

We  never  give  ourselves  up  thus  to  our  senses  without  feeling 
some  pleasure,  and  what  is  very  dreadful,  this  pleasure  abides  in  the 
memory,  makes  deep  traces  in  the  brain,  in  a  word,  imprints  itself 
on  the  imagination — and  this  leads  us  to  our  third  article,  in  which 
we  are  to  consider  what  the  passions  do  in  the  imagination. 

K  the  senses  were  excited  to  act  only  by  the  presence  of  objects 
— if  the  soul  were  agitated  only  by  the  action  of  the  senses,  one  single 
mean  would  sufB.ce  to  guard  us  from  irregular  jDassions  ;  that  would 
be  to  flee  from  the  object  that  excites  them ;  but  the  passions  pro- 
duce other  disorders,  they  leave  deep  impressions  on  the  imagination. 
When  we  give  ourselves  up  to  the  senses  we  feel  pleasure,  this  pleas- 
ure strikes  the  imagination,  and  the  imagination  thus  struck  with  the 
pleasure  it  has  found,  recollects  it,  and  solicits  the  passionate  man  to 
return  to  objects  that  made  him  so  happy. 

Thus  old  men  have  sometimes  miserable  remains  of  a  passion, 
wHch  seems  to  suppose  a  certain  constitution,  and  which  should 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OP    THE    PASSIONS.     IQQ 

seem  to  be  extinct,  as  the  constitution  implied  is  no  more ;  but  the 
recollection  that  such  and  such  objects  had  been  the  cause  of  such 
and  such  pleasures  is  dear  to  their  souls ;  thej  love  to  remember 
them,  they  make  them  a  part  of  all  their  conversations ;  they  drew 
flattering  portraits,  and  by  recounting  their  past  pleasures,  indemnify 
themselves  for  the  prohibition  under  which  old  age  has  laid  them. 
For  the  same  reason  it  is  that  a  worldling,  who  has  plunged  himself 
into  all  the  dissipations  of  life,  finds  it  so  difficult  to  renounce  the 
world  when  he  comes  to  die.  Indeed  a  body  borne  down  with  ill- 
ness, a  nature  almost  extinct,  senses  half  dead,  seem  improper  habita- 
tions of  love  to  sensual  pleasure ;  and  yet  imagination,  struck  with 
past  pleasure,  tells  this  skeleton  that  the  world  is  amiable,  that  always 
when  he  went  into  it  he  enjoyed  a  real  pleasure,  and  that,  on  the 
contrary,  when  he  performed  religious  exercises  he  felt  pain ;  and 
this  lively  impression  gives  such  a  man  a  present  aversion  to  relig- 
ion; it  incessantly  turns  his  mind  toward  the  object  of  which  death 
is  about  to  deprive  him,  so  that,  without  a  miracle  of  grace,  he  can 
never  look  toward  the  objects  of  religion  with  desire  and  pleasure. 

We  go  further.  We  affirm  that  the  disorders  of  the  passions  in 
the  imagination  far  exceed  those  in  the  senses  ;  the  action  of  the 
senses  is  limited :  but  that  of  the  imagination  is  boundless,  so  that 
the  difference  is  almost  as  great  as  that  between  finite  and  infinite, 
if  you  will  pardon  the  expression.  A  man  who  actually  takes  pleas- 
ure in  debauchery,  feels  this  pleasure,  but  he  does  not  persuade  him- 
self that  he  feels  it  more  than  he  does  :  but  a  man  who  indulges  his 
fancy  forms  most  extravagant  ideas,  for  imagination  magnifies  some 
objects,  creates  others,  accumulates  phantom  upon  phantom,  and  fills 
up  a  vast  space  with  ideal  joys  which  have  no  originals  in  nature. 
Hence  it  comes  that  we  are  more  pleased  with  imaginary  ideas  than 
with  the  actual  enjoyment  of  what  we  imagine,  because  imagination 
having  made  boundless  promises,  it  gladdens  the  soul  with  the  hope 
of  more  to  supply  the  want  of  what  present  objects  fail  of  producing. 

O  deplorable  state  of  man  !  The  littleness  of  his  mind  will  not 
allow  him  to  contemplate  any  object  but  that  of  his  passion,  while  it 
is  present  to  his  senses ;  it  will  not  allow  him  then  to  recollect  the 
motives,  the  great  motives,  that  should  impel  him  to  his  duty  :  and 
when  the  object  is  absent,  not  being  able  to  offer  it  to  his  senses,  he 
presents  it  again  to  his  imagination  clothed  with  new  and  foreign 
charms,  deceitful  ideas  of  which  make  up  for  its  absence,  and  excite 
in  him  a  love  more  violent  than  that  of  actual  possession,  when  he 
felt  at  least  the  folly  and  vanity  of  it.  O  horrid  war  of  the  passions 
against  the  soul !     Shut  the  door  of  your  closets  against  the  enchanted 


160  JAMBS    SAURIN. 

object,  it  will  enter  with  you.  Try  to  get  rid  of  it  by  traversing 
plains,  and  fields,  and  whole  countries ;  cleave  the  waves  of  the  sea, 
fly  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  and  try  to  put  between  yourself  and 
your  enchantress  the  deep,  the  rolling  ocean,  she  will  travel  with 
you,  sail  with  you,  every  where  haunt  you,  because  wherever  you  go 
you  will  carry  yourself,  and  within  you,  deep  in  your  imagination, 
the  bewitching  image  impressed. 

Let  us  consider,  in  fine,  the  passions  in  the  heai%  and  the  disor- 
ders they  cause  there,  "What  can  fill  the  heart  of  man  ?  A  prophet 
has  answered  this  question,  and  has  included  all  morality  in  one 
point,  "  my  chief  good  is  to  draw  near  to  God;"  but  as  God  does  not 
commune  with  us  immediately,  while  we  are  in  this  world,  but  im- 
parts felicity  by  means  of  creatures,  he  has  given  these  creatures  two 
characters,  which  being  well  examined  by  a  reasonable  man,  conduct 
him  to  the  Creator,  but  which  turn  the  passionate  man  aside.  On  the- 
one  hand,  creatures  render  us  happy  to  a  certain  degree,  this  is  their 
first  character :  on  the  other,  they  leave  a  void  in  the  soul  which 
they  are  incapable  of  filling,  this  is  their  second  character.  This  is 
the  design  of  God,  and  this  design  the  passions  oppose.  Let  us  hear 
a  reasonable  man  draw  conclusions,  and  let  us  observe  what  opposite 
conclusions  a  passionate  man  draws. 

The  reasonable  man  says,  creatures  leave  a  void  in  my  soul 
which  they  are  inca^Dable  of  filling :  but  what  effect  should  this  pro- 
duce in  my  heart,  and  what  end  had  God  in  setting  bounds  so  strait 
to  that  jDOwer  of  making  me  happy,  which  He  communicated  to 
them  ?  It  was  to  reclaim  me  to  Himself,  to  persuade  me  that  He  only 
can  make  me  happy  ;  it  was  to  make  me  say  to  myself,  my  desires 
are  eternal,  whatever  is  not  eternal  is  unequal  to  my  desires;  my 
passions  are  infinite,  whatever  is  not  infinite  is  beneath  my  passions, 
and  God  only  can  satisfy  them. 

A  passionate  man,  from  the  void  he  finds  in  the  creatures,  draws 
conclusions  directly  opposite.  Each  creature  in  particular  is  incapa- 
ble of  making  me  happy  :  but  could  I  unite  them  all,  could  I,  so  to 
speak,  extract  the  substantial  from  all,  certainly  nothing  would  be 
wanting  to  my  happiness.  In  this  miserable  supposition  he  becomes 
full  of  perturbation,  he  launches  out,  he  collects,  he  accumulates. 
It  is  not  enough  to  acquire  conveniences,  he  must  have  superfluities. 
It  is  not  enough  that  my  name  be  known  in  my  family,  and  among 
my  acquaintance,  it  must  be  spread  over  the  whole  city,  the  province, 
the  kingdom,  the  four  parts  of  the  globe.  Every  clime  illuminated 
by  the  sun  shall  know  that  I  exist,  and  that  I  have  a  superior  genius. 
It  is  not  enough  to  conquer  some  hearts,  I  will  subdue  all,  and  dis- 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OP    THE    PASSIONS.     167 

play  tlie  astonisliing  art  of  uniting  all  voices  in  my  favor;  men 
divided  in  opinion  about  every  tiling  else  shall  agree  in  one  point, 
that  is,  to  celebrate  my  praise.  It  is  not  enough  to  have  many  infe- 
riors, I  must  have  no  master,  no  equal,  I  must  be  a  universal  mon- 
arch, and  subdue  the  whole  world  ;  and  when  I  shall  have  accom- 
plished these  vast  designs,  I  will  seek  other  creatures  to  subdue,  and 
more  worlds  to  conquer.  Thus  the  passions  disconcert  the  plan  of 
God !     Such  are  the  conclusions  of  a  heart  infatuated  with  passion ! 

The  disciple  of  reason  says,  creatures  contribute  to  render  me 
happy  to  a  certain  degree  :  but  this  power  is  not  their  own.  Gross, 
sensible,  material  beings  can  not  contribute  to  the  happiness  of  a 
spiritual  creature.  If  creatures  can  augment  my  happiness,  it  is  be- 
cause God  has  lent  them  a  power  natural  only  to  Himself.  God  is 
then  Ihe  source  of  felicity,  and  all  I  see  elsewhere  is  only  an  emana- 
tion of  His  essence  :  but  if  the  streams  be  so  pure,  what  is  the  fount- 
ain !  If  effects  to  be  so  noble,  what  is  the  cause !  If  rays  be  so 
luminous,  what  is  the  source  of  light  from  which  they  proceed ! 

The  conclusions  of  an  impassioned  man  are  directly  opposite- 
Says  he,  creatures  render  me  happy  to  a  certain  degree,  therefore 
they  are  the  cause  of  my  happiness,  they  deserve  all  my  eiforts,  they 
shall  be  my  god.  Thus  the  passionate  man  renders  to  his  aliments, 
his  gold,  his  silver,  his  equipage,  his  horses,  the  most  noble  act  of 
adoration.  For  what  is  the  most  noble  act  of  adoration  ?  Is  it  to 
build  temples  ?  To  erect  altars  ?  To  kill  victims  ?  To  sacrifice 
burnt-offerings  ?  To  burn  incense  ?  No.  It  is  that  inclination  of 
our  heart  to  union  with  God,  that  aspiring  to  possess  Him,  that  love, 
that  effusion  of  soul,  which  makes  us  exclaim,  "  My  chief  good  is  to 
draw  near  to  God."  This  homage  the  man  of  passion  renders  to  the 
object  of  his  passions,  "  his  god  is  his  belly,"  his  "  covetousness  his 
idolatry;"  and  this  is  what  "fleshly  lusts"  become  in  the  heart. 
They  remove  us  from  God,  and,  by  removing  us  from  Him,  deprive 
us  of  all  the  good  that  proceeds  from  a  union  with  the  Supreme 
Good,  and  thus  make  war  with  every  part  of  ourselves,  and  with 
every  moment  of  our  duration. 

War  against  our  reason,  for  instead  of  deriving,  by  virtue  of  a 
union  to  God,  assistance  necessary  to  the  practice  of  what  reason 
approves,  and  what  grace  only  renders  practicable,  we  are  given  up 
to  our  evd  dispositions,  and  compelled  by  our  passions  to  do  what 
our  own  reason  abhors. 

War  against  the  regulation  of  life,  for  instead  of  putting  on  by 
virtue  of  union  to  God,  the  "  easy  yoke,"  and  taking  up  the  "hght 
burden"  which  religion  imposes,  we  become  slaves  of  envy,  venge- 


168 


JAMES    SAURIN. 


ance  and  ambition;  we  are  weighed  down  witli  a  yoke  of  iron, 
wliich  \Ye  have  no  power  to  get  rid  of,  even  though  we  groan  under 
its  intolerable  weightiness. 

War  against  conscience,  for  instead  of  being  justified  by  virtue 
of  a  union  with  God,  and  having  "peace  with  Him  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  and  feeling  that  heaven  begun,  "  joy  unspeaka- 
ble and  full  of  glory,"  by  following  our  passions  we  become  a  prey 
to  distracting  fear,  troubles  without  end,  cutting  remorse,  and  awful 
earnests  of  eternal  misery. 

Wai'  on  a  dying  bed,  for  whereas  by  being  united  to  God  our 
death-bed  would  have  become  a  field  of  triumph,  where  the  Prince 
of  life,  the  Conqueror  of  death  would  have  made  us  share  His  vic- 
tory, by  abandoning  ourselves  to  our  passions,  we  see  nothing  in  a 
dying  hour  but  an  awful  futurity,  a  frowning  Governor,  the  bare  idea 
of  which  alarms,  temfies,  and  drives  us  to  despair. 

III.  "We  have  seen  the  nature  and  the  disorders  of  the  passions, 
now  let  us  examine  what  remedies  we  ought  to  apply.  In  order  to 
prevent  and  correct  the  disorders,  which  the  passions  produce  in  the 
mind,  we  must  observe  the  following  rules: 

1.  TFe  ?7'i?<5!!  avofc?  prec?}:»i7ance,  ay^d  suspend  our  judgment  It  does 
not  depend  on  us  to  have  clear  ideas  of  all  things :  but  we  have 
power  to  suspend  our  judgment  till  we  obtain  evidence  of  the  nature 
of  the  object  before  us.  This  is  one  of  the  greatest  advantages  of  an 
intelligent  being.  A  celebrated  divine  has  such  a  high  idea  of  this 
that  he  maintains  this  hyperbolical  thesis,  that  "always  when  we 
mistake,  even  in  things  indifferent  in  themselves,  we  sin,  because 
then  we  abuse  our  reason,  the  use  of  which  consists  in  never  determin- 
ing without  evidence."  Though  we  suppose  this  divine  has  exceeded 
the  matter,  yet  it  is  certain  that  a  wise  man  can  never  take  too  much 
pains  to  form  a  habit  of  not  judging  a  point,  not  considering  it  as 
useful  or  advantageous  till  after  he  has  examined  it  on  every  side. 
"Let  a  man,"  says  a  philosopher  of  great  name,  "let  a  man  only 
pass  one  year  in  the  world,  hearing  all  they  say,  and  believing  noth- 
ing, entering  every  moment  into  himself,  and  suspending  his  judg- 
ment till  truth  and  evidence  appear,  and  I  will  esteem  him  more 
learned  than  Aristotle,  wiser  than  Socrates,  and  a  greater  man  than 
Plato." 

2.  A  man  must  reform  even  his  education.  In  every  family  the 
minds  of  children  are  turned  to  a  certain  point.  Every  family  has 
its  prejudice,  I  had  almost  said  its  absurdity ;  and  hence  it  comes  to 
pass  that  people  despise  the  profession  the}'  do  not  exercise.  Hear 
the  merchant,  he  will  tell  you  that  nothing  so  much  deserves  the  at- 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OP    THE    PASSIONS.     IQg 

tention  of  mankind  as  trade,  as  acquiring  money  by  every  created 
tiling,  as  knowing  the  value  of  tliis,  and  the  worth  of  that,  as  taxing, 
so  to  speak,  all  the  works  of  art,  and  all  the  productions  of  nature. 
Hear  the  man  of  learning,  he  will  tell  you  that  the  perfection  of  man 
consists  in  literature,  that  there  is  a  difference  as  essential  between  a 
scholar  and  a  man  of  no  literature,  as  between  a  rational  creature  and 
a  brute.  Hear  the  soldier,  he  will  tell  you  that  the  man  of  science 
is  a  pedant  who  ought  to  be  confined  to  the  dirt  and  darkness  of  the 
schools,  that  the  merchant  is  the  most  sordid  part  of  society,  and 
that  nothing  is  so  noble  as  the  profession  of  arms.  One  would  think, 
to  hear  him  talk,  that  the  sword  by  his  side  is  a  patent  for  pre- 
eminence, and  that  mankind  have  no  need  of  any  people,  who  can  not 
rout  an  army,  cut  through  a  squadron,  or  scale  a  wall.  Hear  him 
who  has  got  the  disease  of  quality  ;  he  will  tell  you  that  other  men 
are  nothing  but  reptiles  beneath  his  feet,  that  human  blood,  stained 
every  where  else,  is  pure  only  in  his  veins.  That  nobilit}"  serves  for 
every  thing,  for  genius,  and  education,  and  fortune,  and  sometimes 
even  for  common  sense  and  good  faith.  Hear  the  peasant,  he  will 
tell  you  that  a  nobleman  is  an  enthusiast  for  appropriating  to  him- 
self the  virtues  of  his  ancestors,  and  for  pretending  to  find  in  old 
quaint  names,  and  in  worm-eaten  papers,  advantages  which  belong 
only  to  real  and  actual  abilities.  As  I  said  before,  each  family  has 
its  prejudice,  every  profession  has  its  folly,  all  proceeding  from  this 
principle,  because  we  consider  objects  only  in  one  point  of  view. 
To  correct  ourselves  on  this  article,  we  must  go  to  the  source,  exam- 
ine how  our  minds  were  directed  in  our  childhood ;  in  a  word,  we 
must  review  and  reform  even  our  education. 

3.  In  fine,  we  must,  as  well  as  we  can,  choose  a  friend  wise  enough 
to  know  truth,  and  generous  enough  to  impart  it  to  others;  a  man 
who  will  show  us  an  object  on  every  side,  when  we  are  inclined  to 
consider  it  only  on  one.  I  say  as  well  as  you  can,  for  to  give  this 
rule  is  to  suj^pose  two  things,  both  sometimes  alike  impracticable ; 
the  one,  that  such  a  man  can  be  found ;  and  the  other,  that  he  will 
be  heard  with  deference.  "When  we  are  so  happy  as  to  find  this  in- 
estimable treasure,  we  have  found  a  remedy  of  marvelous  efficacy 
against  the  disorders  which  the  passions  produce  in  the  mind.  Let 
us  make  the  trial.  Suppose  a  faithful  friend  should  address  one  of 
you  in  this  manner.  Heaven  has  united  in  your  favor  the  most 
happy  circumstances.  The  blood  of  the  greatest  heroes  animates 
you,  and  your  name  alone  is  an  encomium.  Besides  this  you  have 
an  affluent  fortune,  and  Providence  has  given  you  abundance  to  sup- 
port your  dignity,  and  to  discharge  every  thing  that  your  splendid 


170  JAMES    SAURIN. 

station  requires.  You  have  also  a  fine  and  acute  genius,  and  your 
natural  talents  are  cultivated  by  an  excellent  education.  Your 
health  seems  free  from  the  infirmities  of  life,  and  if  any  man  may 
hope  for  a  long  duration  here,  you  are  the  man  who  may  expect  it. 
With  all  these  noble  advantages  you  may  aspire  at  any  thing.  But 
one  thing  is  wanting.  You  are  dazzled  with  your  own  splendor,  and 
your  feeble  eyes  are  almost  put  out  with  the  brilliancy  of  your 
condition.  Your  imagination,  struck  with  the  idea  of  the  prince 
whom  you  have  the  honor  to  serve,  makes  you  consider  yourself  as 
a  kind  of  royal  personage.  You  have  formed  your  family  on  the 
plan  of  the  court.  You  are  proud,  arrogant,  haughty.  Your  seat 
resembles  a  tribunal,  and  all  your  expressions  are  sentences  from 
which  it  is  a  crime  to  appeal.  As  you  will  never  sufter  yourself  to  be 
contradicted,  you  seem  to  be  applauded  ;  but  a  sacrifice  is  made  to 
your  vanity  and  not  to  your  merit,  and  people  bow  not  to  your 
reason  but  to  your  tyranny.  As  they  fear  you  avail  yourself  of  your 
credit  to  brave  others,  each  endeavors  to  oppose  you,  and  to  throw 
down  in  3-our  absence  the  altar  he  had  erected  in  your  presence,  and 
on  which  no  incense  sincerely  offered  burns,  except  that  which  you 
yourself  put  there. 

So  much  for  irregular  passions  in  the  mind.  Let  us  now  lay 
down  a  few  rules  for  the  government  of  the  senses. 

Before  we  j^roceed,  we  can  not  help  deploring  the  misery  of  a 
man  who  is  impelled  by  the  disorders  of  his  senses,  and  the  heat  of 
his  constitution,  to  criminal  passions.  Such  a  man  often  deserves 
pity  more  than  indignation.  A  bad  constitution  is  sometimes  com- 
patible with  a  good  heart.  We  can  not  think  without  trembling  of 
an  ungrateful  man,  a  cheat,  a  traitor,  an  assassin ;  for  their  crimes 
always  suppose  liberty  of  mind  and  consent  of  will:  but  a  man 
driven  from  the  post  of  duty  by  the  heat  of  his  blood,  by  an  over- 
flow of  humors,  by  the  fermentation  and  flame  of  his  spirits,  often 
sins  by  constraint,  and,  so  to  speak,  protests  against  his  crime  even 
while  he  commits  it.  Hence  we  often  see  angry  people  become  full 
of  love  and  pity,  always  inclined  to  forgive,  or  always  ready  to  ask 
pardon ;  while  others,  cold,  calm,  tranquil,  revolve  eternal  hatreds  in 
their  souls,  and  leave  them  for  an  inheritance  to  their  children. 

However,  though  the  irregularity  of  the  senses  diminishes  the 
atrociousness  of  the  crime,  yet  it  can  not  excuse  those  who  do  not 
make  continual  efforts  to  correct  it.  To  acknowledge  that  we  are 
constitutionally  inclined  to  violate  the  laws  of  God,  and  to  live 
quietly  in  practices  directed  by  constitutional  heat,  is  to  have  the 
interior  tainted.     It  is  an  evidence  that  the  malady  which  at  first 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OP    THE    PASSIONS.     171 

attacked  only  the  exterior  of  tlie  man  lias  communicated  itself  to  all 
tlie  frame,  and  infected  the  vitals.  We  oppose  this  against  the  frivo- 
lous excuses  of  some  sinners,  who,  while  they  abandon  themselves 
like  brute  beasts  to  the  most  guilty  passions,  lay  all  the  blame  on 
the  misfortune  of  their  constitution.  They  say  their  will  has  no 
part  in  their  excesses — they  can  not  change  their  constitution — and 
God  can  not  justly  blame  them  for  irregularities  which  proceeded 
from  the  natural  union  of  the  soul  with  the  body.  Indeed  they 
prove  by  their  talk  that  they  would  be  very  sorry  not  to  have  a  con- 
stitution to  serve  for  an  apology  for  sin,  and  to  cover  the  licentious- 
ness of  casting  off  an  obligation,  which  the  law  of  God,  according 
to  them,  requires  of  none  but  such  as  have  received  from  nature  the 
power  of  discharging  it.  If  these  maxims  be  admitted,  what  be- 
comes of  the  morality  of  Jesus  Christ?  What  becomes  of  the  com- 
mands concerning  mortification  and  repentance  ?  But  people  who 
talk  thus,  intend  less  to  correct  their  faults  than  to  paUiate  them  ;  and 
this  discourse  is  intended  only  for  such  as  are  willing  to  apply  means 
to  free  themselves  from  the  dominion  of  irregular  passions. 

Certainly  the  best  advice  that  can  be  given  to  a  man  whose  con- 
stitution inclines  him  to  sin,  is,  that  he  avoid  opportunities,  and  flee 
from  such  objects  as  affect  and  disconcert  him.  It  does  not  depend 
on  you  to  be  unconcerned  in  the  sight  of  an  object  fatal  to  your  in- 
nocence :  but  it  does  depend  on  you  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  seeing 
it.  It  does  not  depend  on  you  to  be  animated  at  the  sight  of  a 
gaming  table :  but  it  does  depend  on  you  to  avoid  such  whimsical 
places,  where  sharping  goes  for  merit.  Let  us  not  be  presumptuous. 
Let  us  make  diffidence  a  principle  of  virtue.  Let  us  remember  St. 
Peter ;  he  was  fired  with  zeal,  he  thought  every  thing  possible  to  his 
love,  his  presumption  was  the  cause  of  his  fall,  and  many  by  follow- 
ing his  example  have  yielded  to  temptation,  and  have  found  the  truth 
of  an  apocryphal  maxim,  "  he  thatloveth  danger  shall  j)erish  therein." 

After  all,  that  virtue  which  owes  its  firmness  only  to  a  want  of 
an  opportunity  for  vice  is  very  feeble,  and  it  argues  very  little  attain- 
ment only  to  be  able  to  resist  our  passions  in  the  absence  of  tempta- 
tion. I  recollect  a  maxim  of  St.  Paul,  "  I  wrote  unto  you  not  to 
company  with  fornicators,"  but  I  did  not  mean  that  you  should  have 
no  conversation  "with  fornicators  of  this  world,  for  then  must  ye 
needs  go  out  of  the  world."  Literally,  to  avoid  all  objects  danger- 
ous to  our  passions,  "  we  must  go  out  of  the  world."  Are  there  no 
remedies  adapted  to  the  necessity  we  are  under  of  living  among 
mankind  ?  Is  there  no  such  thing  as  correcting,  with  the  assistance 
of  grace,  the  irregularities  of  our  constitution,  and  freeing  ourselves 


172  JAMES    SAURIN. 

from  its  dominion,  so  that  we  may  be  able,  if  not  to  seek  our  tempt- 
ation for  tlie  sake  of  tbe  glory  of  subduing  them,  at  least  to  resist 
them,  and  not  suffer  them  to  conquer  us,  when  in  spite  of  all  our 
caution  they  will  attack  us  ?  Three-  remedies  are  necessary  to  our 
success  in  this  painful  undertaking ;  to  suspend  acts — ^to  flee  idleness 
— to  mortify  sense. 

We  must  suspend  acts.  Let  us  form  a  just  idea  of  temperament 
or  constitution.  It  consists  in  one  of  these  two  things,  or  in  both 
together ;  in  a  disposition  of  organs  in  the  nature  of  animal  spirits. 
For  example,  a  man  is  angry  when  the  organs  which  serve  that  pas- 
sion, are  more  accessible  than  others,  and  when  his  animal  spirits  are 
easily  heated.  Hence  it  necessarily  follows  that  two  things  must  be 
done  to  correct  constitutional  anger ;  the  one,  the  disposition  of  the 
organs  must  be  changed ;  and  the  other,  the  nature  of  the  spirits 
must  be  changed,  so  that  on  the  one  hand,  the  spirits  no  longer  find- 
ing these  organs  disposed  to  give  them  passage,  and  on  the  other 
hand  the  spirits  having  lost  a  facility  of  taking  fire,  there  will  be 
within  the  man  none  of  the  revolutions  of  sense,  which  he  could  not 
resist  when  they  were  excited. 

A  suspension  of  acts  changes  the  disposition  of  the  organs.  The 
more  the  spirits  enter  into  these  organs,  the  more  easy  is  the  access, 
and  the  propensity  insurmountable ;  the  more  acts  of  anger  there  are, 
the  more  incorrigible  will  anger  become ;  because  the  more  acts  of 
anger  there  are,  the  more  accessible  will  the  organs  of  anger  be,  so  that 
the  animal  spirits  will  naturally  fall  there  by  their  own  motion.  The 
spirits  then  must  be  restrained.  The  bias  they  have  to  the  ways  to 
which  they  have  been  habituated  by  the  practice  of  sin  must  be 
turned,  and  we  must  always  remember  a  truth  often  inculcated,  that 
is,  that  the  more  acts  of  sin  we  commit  the  more  difl&cult  to  correct 
will  habits  of  sin  become ;  but  that  when  by  taking  pains  with  our- 
selves, we  have  turned  the  course  of  the  spirits,  they  will  take  dif- 
ferent ways,  and  this  is  done  by  suspending  the  acts. 

It  is  not  impossible  to  change  even  the  nature  of  our  animal  spirits. 
This  is  done  by  suspending  what  contributed  to  nourish  them  in  a 
state  of  disorder.  What  contributes  to  the  nature  of  spirits  ?  Diet, 
exercise,  air,  the  whole  course  of  life  we  live.  It  is  very  difl&cult  in 
a  discourse  like  this,  to  give  a  full  catalogue  of  remedies  proper  to 
regulate  the  animal  spirits  and  the  humors  of  the  body.  I  believe 
it  would  be  dangerous  to  many  people.  Some  men  are  so  made 
that  reflections  too  accurate  on  this  article  would  be  more  likely  to 
increase  their  vices  than  to  diminish  them.  However,  there  is  not 
one  person  willing  to  turn  his  attention  to  this  subject  who  is  not 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTEOL    OF    THE    PASSIONS.     173 

able  to  become  a  preaclier  to  himself.  Let  a  man  enter  into  liimself, 
let  him  survey  the  history  of  his  excuses,  let  him  examine  all  circum- 
stances, let  him  recollect  what  passed  within  him  on  such  and  such 
occasion,  let  him  closely  consider  what  moved  and  agitated  him,  and 
he  will  learn  more  by  such  a  meditation  than  all  sermons  and  cas- 
uistical books  can  teach  him. 

The  second  remedy  is  to  avoid  idleness.  "What  is  idleness  ?  It  is 
that  situation  of  soul  in  which  no  effort  is  made  to  direct  the  course 
of  the  spirit  this  way  rather  than  that.  What  must  happen  then  ? 
We  have  supposed  that  some  organs  of  a  man  constitutionally  irregu- 
lar are  more  accessible  than  others.  When  we  are  idle,  and  make 
no  efforts  to  direct  the  animal  spirits,  they  naturally  take  the  easiest 
way,  and  consequently  direct  their  own  course  to  those  organs  which 
passion  has  made  easy  of  access.  To  avoid  this  disorder,  we  must 
be  employed,  and  always  employed.  This  rule  is  neither  impracti- 
cable nor  dif&culfc.  We  do  not  mean  that  the  soul  should  be  always 
on  the  stretch  in  meditation  or  prayer.  An  innocent  recreation,  an 
easy  conversation,  agreeable  exercise,  may  have  each  its  place  in 
occupations  of  this  kind.  For  these  reasons  we  applaud  those,  who 
make  such  maxims  parts  of  the  education  of  youth,  as  either  to  teach 
them  an  art  or  employ  them  in  some  bodily  exercise.  Not  that  we 
propose  this  maxim  as  it  is  received  in  some  families,  where  they 
think  all  the  merit  of  a  young  gentleman  consists  in  hunting,  riding, 
or  some  exercise  of  that  kind ;  and  that  of  a  }' oung  lady,  in  distin- 
guishing herself  in  dancing,  music,  or  needle-work.  We  mean,  that 
these  employments  should  be  subordinate  to  others  more  serious,  and 
more  worthy  of  an  immortal  soul,  that  they  should  serve  only  for 
relaxation,  so  that  by  thus  taking  part  in  the  innocent  pleasures  of  the 
world,  we  may  be  better  prepared  to  avoid  the  guilty  pursuits  of  it. 

The  third  remedy  is  mortification  of  the  senses,  a  remedy  Avhich  St. 
Paul  always  used,  "I  keep  under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  sub- 
jection." Few  people  have  such  sound  notions.  Some  casuists  have 
stretched  the  subject  beyond  its  due  bounds  so  as  to  establish  this 
principle,  that  sinful  man  can  enjoy  no  pleasure  without  a  crime,  be- 
cause sin  having  been  his  delight,  pain  ought  to  be  forever  his  lot. 
This  principle  may  perhaps  be  probably  considered  in  regard  to  un- 
regenerate  men :  but  it  can  not  be  admitted  in  regard  to  true  Chris- 
tians. Accordingly,  we  place  among  those  who  have  unsound  no- 
tions of  mortificatious,  all  such  as  make  it  consist  in  vain  practices, 
useless  in  themselves,  and  having  no  relation  to  the  principal  design 
of  religion,  "bodily  exercise  profiting  little;"  they  are  "command- 
ments of  men,"  in  the  language  of  Scripture. 


174  JAMES    SAURIN. 

But  if  some  have  entertained  extravagant  notions  of  mortifi- 
cation, others  have  restrained  the  subject  too  much.  Under  pretense 
that  the  rehgion  of  Jesus  Christ  is  spiritual,  they  have  neglected  the 
study  and  practice  of  evangelical  morality ;  but  we  have  heard  the 
example  of  St.  Paul,  and  it  is  our  duty  to  imitate  it.  We  must  "  keep 
under  the  body,"  and  "bring  it  into  subjection,"  the  senses  must  be 
bridled  by  violence,  innocent  things  must  often  be  refused  them,  in 
order  to  obtain  the  mastery  when  they  require  unlawful  things;  we 
must  fast,  we  must  avoid  ease,  because  it  tends  to  effeminacy.  All 
this  is  difficult,  I  grant :  but  if  the  undertaking  be  hazardous,  suc- 
cess wnll  be  glorious.  Thirty,  forty  years,  employed  in  reforming  an 
irregular  constitution,  ought  not  to  be  regretted.  What  a  glory  to 
have  subdued  the  senses !  What  a  glory  to  have  restored  the  soul 
to  its  primitive  superiority,  to  have  crucified  the  "body  of  sin,"  to 
lead  it  in  triumph,  and  to  destroy,  that  is  to  annihilate  it,  according 
to  an  expression  of  Scriptures,  and  so  to  approach  those  pure  spirits, 
to  whom  the  motions  of  matter  can  make  no  alteration ! 

The  disorders  produced  by  the  passions  in  the  imagination,  and 
against  which  also  we  ought  to  furnish  you  with  some  remedies,  are 
like  those  complicated  disorders  which  require  opposite  remedies, 
because  they  are  the  effect  of  opposite  causes,  so  that  the  means  em- 
ployed to  diminish  one  part  not  unfrequently  increase  another.  It 
should  seem  at  first,  that  the  best  remedy  which  can  be  applied  to 
disorders  introduced  by  the  passions  into  the  imagination,  is  well  to 
consider  the  nature  of  the  objects  of  the  passions,  and  thoroughly 
to  know  the  world :  and  yet  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  trul}^  be  said 
that  the  most  certain  way  of  succeeding  would  be  to  know  nothing 
at  all  about  the  world.  If  you  know  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  if 
you  know  by  experience  the  pleasure  of  gratifying  a  passion,  you 
will  fall  into  the  misfortune  we  wish  you  to  avoid ;  you  will  receive 
bad  impressions;  you  will  acquire  dangerous  recollections,  and  a 
seducing  memory  will  be  a  new  occasion  of  sin  :  but  if  you  do  not 
know  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  you  will  be  likely  to  form  ideas 
too  flattering  of  it,  you  will  create  images  more  beautiful  than  the 
originals  themselves,  and  by  the  immense  value  you  set  upon  the 
victim,  when  you  are  just  going  to  offer  it  up  perhaps  you  will  re- 
treat, and  not  make  the  sacrifice.  Hence  we  often  see  persons  whom 
the  superstition  or  avarice  of  their  families  has  in  childhood  con- 
fined in  a  nunnery  (suppose  it  were  allowable  in  other  cases,  yet  in 
this  case  done  prematurely),  I  say,  these  persons  not  knowing  the 
Avorld,  wish  for  its  pleasures  with  more  ardor  than  if  they  had  actu- 
ally experienced  them.     So  they  who  have  never  been  in  company 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OF    THE    PASSIONS.     175 

with  the  great,  generally  imagine  that  their  society  is  full  of  charms, 
that  all  is  pleasure  in  their  company,  and  that  a  circle  of  rich  and 
fashionable  people  sitting  in  an  elegant  apartment  is  far  more  lively 
and  animated  than  one  composed  of  people  of  inferior  rank,  and 
middling  fortune.  Hence  also  it  is  that  they  who,  after  having 
lived  a  dissipated  life,  have  the  rare  happiness  of  renouncing  it,  do 
so  with  more  sincerity  than  others,  who  never  knew  the  vanity  of 
such  a  life  by  experience.  So  very  different  are  the  remedies  for 
disorders  of  the  imagination. 

But  as  in  complicated  disorders,  to  which  we  have  compared 
them,  a  wise  physician  chiefly  attends  to  the  most  dangerous  com- 
plaint, and  distributes  his  remedies  so  as  to  counteract  those  which 
are  less  fatal,  we  will  observe  the  same  method  on  this  occasion. 
Doubtless  the  most  dangerous  way  to  obtain  a  contempt  for  the 
pleasures  of  the  world,  is  to  get  an  experimental  knowledge  of  them, 
in  order  to  detach  ourselves  more  easily  from  them  by  the  thorough 
sense  we  have  of  their  vanity.  We  hazard  a  fall  by  approaching 
too  near,  and  such  very  often  is  the  ascendency  of  the  world  over 
us,  that  we  can  not  detach  ourselves  from  it  though  we  are  disgusted 
with  it.  Let  us  endeavor  then  to  preserve  our  imagination  pure ; 
let  us  abstain  from  pleasure  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  remem- 
bering them ;  let  retirement,  and,  if  it  be  practicable,  perpetual  pri- 
vacy, from  the  moment  we  enter  into  the  world  to  the  day  we  quit 
it,  save  us  from  all  bad  impressions,  so  that  we  may  never  know  the 
effects  which  worldly  objects  would  produce  in  our  passions.  This 
method,  sure  and  effectual,  is  useless  and  impracticable  in  regard  to 
such  as  have  received  bad  impressions  on  their  imagination.  Peo- 
ple of  this  character  ought  to  pursue  the  second  method  we  men- 
tioned, that  is  to  profit  by  their  losses,  and  derive  wisdom  from  their 
errors.  When  you  recollect  sin,  you  may  remember  the  folly  and 
pain  of  it.  Let  the  courtier  whose  imagination  is  yet  full  of  the 
vain  glory  of  a  splendid  court,  remember  the  intrigue  he  has  known 
there,  the  craft,  the  injustice,  the  treachery,  the  dark  and  dismal 
plans  that  are  formed  and  executed  there. 

I  would  advise  such  a  man,  when  his  passions  solicit  him  to  sin, 
to  call  in  the  aid  of  some  other  idea  to  strike  and  affect  his  imagina- 
tion. Let  him  make  choice  of  that  out  of  the  truths  of  religion 
which  seems  most  likely  to  impress  his  mind,  and  let  him  learn  the 
art  of  instantly  opposing  impression  against  impression,  and  image 
against  image ;  for  example,  let  him  often  fix  his  attention  on  death, 
judgment,  and  hell ;  let  him  often  say  to  himself,  I  must  die  soon, 
I  must  stand  before  a  severe  tribunal,  and  appear  in  the  presence  of 


176  JAMES    SAURIN. 

an  impartial  judge;  let  him  go  down  in  thouglit  into  that  gulf, 
■where  the  wicked  expiate  in  eternal  torments  their  momentary 
pleasures  ;  let  him  think  he  hears  the  sound  of  the  piercing  cries  of 
the  victims  whom  divine  justice  sacrifices  in  hell :  let  him  often 
weigh  in  his  mind  the  "  chains  of  darkness"  that  load  miserable 
creatures  in  hell ;  let  him  often  approach  the  fire  that  consumes 
them ;  let  him,  so  to  speak,  scent  the  smoke  that  rises  np  forever 
and  ever ;  let  him  often  think  of  eternity,  and  place  himself  in  that 
awful  moment  in  which  "  the  angel  will  lift  up  his  hand  to  heaven, 
and  swear  by  him  that  liveth  forever  and  ever,  that  there  shall  be 
time  no  longer;"  and  let  the  numerous  reflections  furnished  by  all 
these  subjects  be  kept  as  corps  de  reserve,  always  ready  to  fly  to  his 
aid,  when  the  enemy  approaches  to  attack  him. 

In  fine,  to  heal  the  disorders  which  the  passions  produce  in  the 
heart,  two  things  must  be  done.  First,  the  vanity  of  all  the  crea- 
tures must  be  observed ;  and  this  will  free  us  from  the  desire  of  pos- 
sessing and  collecting  the  whole  in  order  to  fill  up  the  void  which 
single  enjoyments  leave.  Secondlj^,  we  must  ascend  from  creatures 
to  the  Creator,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  folly  of  attributing  to  the 
world  the  perfection  and  sufficiency  of  God. 

Let  us  free  our  hearts  from  an  avidity  for  new  pleasures  by  com- 
prehending all  creatures  in  our  catalogue  of  vanities.  I  allow,  in- 
constancy, and  love  of  novelty  are  in  some  sense  rational.  It  is 
natural  for  a  being  exposed  to  trouble  to  choose  to  change  his  con- 
dition, and  as  that  in  which  he  is  yields  certain  trouble,  to  try 
whether  another  will  not  be  something  easier.  It  is  natural  to  a 
man  who  has  found  nothing  but  imperfect  pleasure  in  former  enjoy- 
ments, to  desire  new  objects.  The  most  noble  souls,  the  greatest 
geniuses,  the  largest  hearts,  have  often  the  most  inconstancy  and 
love  of  novelty,  because  the  extent  of  their  capacity  and  the  space 
of  their  wishes  make  them  feel,  more  than  other  men,  the  diminu- 
tiveness  and  incompetency  of  all  creatures.  But  the  misfortune  is, 
man  can  not  change  his  situation  without  entering  into  another 
almost  like  that  from  which  he  came.  Lit  us  persuade  ourselves 
that  there  is  nothing  substantial  in  creatures,  that  all  conditions,  be- 
sides characters  of  vanity  common  to  all  human  things,  have  some 
imperfections  peculiar  to  themselves.  If  you  rise  out  of  obscurity, 
you  will  not  have  the  troubles  of  obscurity,  but  you  will  have  those 
of  conspicuous  stations ;  you  will  make  talk  for  every  body,  you 
will  be  exposed  to  envy,  you  will  be  responsible  to  each  individual 
for  your  conduct.  If  you  quit  solitude,  you  will  not  have  the  trou- 
bles of  solitude,  but  you  will  have  those  of  society ;  you  will  live 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OF    THE    PASSIONS.     177 

under  restraint,  you  will  lose  your  liberty,  inestimable  liberty,  the 
greatest  treasure  of  mankind,  you  will  have  to  bear  with  the  faults 
of  all  people  connected  with  you.  If  heaven  gives  you  a  family, 
you  will  not  have  the  troubles  of  such  as  have  none,  but  you  will 
have  others  necessarily  resulting  from  domestic  connections ;  you 
will  multiply  your  miseries  by  the  number  of  your  children,  you 
will  fear  for  their  fortune,  you  will  be  in  pain  about  their  health,  and 
you  will  tremble  for  fear  of  their  death.  My  brethren ,  I  repeat  it 
again,  there  is  nothing  substantial  in  this  life.  Every  condition  has 
diflO-Culties  of  its  own  as  well  as  the  common  inanity  of  all  human 
things.  If,  in  some  sense,  nothing  ought  to  surprise  us  less  than  the 
inconstancy  of  mankind  and  their  love  of  novelty,  in  another  view, 
nothing  ought  to  astonish  us  more,  at  least  there  is  nothing  more 
weak  and  senseless.  A  man  who  thinks  to  remedy  the  vanity  of 
earthly  things  by  running  from  one  object  to  another,  is  like  him 
who,  in  order  to  determine  whether  there  be  in  a  great  heap  of 
stones  any  one  capable  of  nourishing  him,  should  resolve  to  taste 
them  all  one  after  another.  Let  us  shorten  our  labor.  Let  us  put 
all  creatures  into  one  class.  Let  us  cry,  vanity  in  all.  If  we  deter- 
mine to  pursue  new  objects,  let  us  choose  such  as  are  capable  of  sat- 
isfying us.  Let  us  not  seek  them  here  below.  They  are  not  to  be 
found  in  this  old  world,  which  God  has  cursed.  They  are  in  the 
"  new  heavens,  and  the  new  earth,"  which  religion  promises.  To 
comprehend  all  creatures  in  a  catalogue  of  vanities  is  an  excellent 
rule  to  heal  the  heart  of  the  disorders  of  passion. 

Next  we  must  frequently  ascend  from  creatures  to  the  Creator, 
and  cease  to  consider  them  as  the  supreme  good.  We  intend  here  a 
devotion  of  all  times,  places,  and  circumstances ;  for,  my  brethren,, 
one  great  source  of  depravity  in  the  most  eminent  saints  is  to  re- 
strain the  spirit  of  religion  to  certain  times,  jplaces,  and  circum- 
stances. There  is  an  art  of  glorifying  God  by  exercising  religion 
every  where.  "  Whether  ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  you  do,  do< 
all  to  the  glory  of  God."  Do  you  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sense  ? 
Say  to  yourself,  God  is  the  author  of  this  pleasure.  The  nourishment 
I  derive  from  my  food  is  not  necessarily  produced  by  aliments,  they 
have  no  natural  power  to  move  my  nerves,  God  has  communicated 
it  to  them ;  there  is  no  necessary  connection  between  the  motions- 
of  my  senses  and  agreeable  sensations  in  my  soul,  it  is  God  who  has 
established  the  union  between  motion  and  sensation.  The  particles, 
emitted  by  this  flower  could  not  necessarily  move  the  nerves  of  my 
smell,  it  is  God  who  has  established  this  law ;  the  motion  of  my 
smelling  nerves  can  not  naturally  excite  a  sensation  of  agreeable; 

12 


178  JAMES    SAURIN. 

odor  in  my  soul,  it  is  God  who  has  established  this  union ;  and  so 
of  the  rest.  God  is  supreme  happiness,  the  source  from  which  all 
the  charms  of  creatures  proceed.  He  is  the  light  of  the  sun,  the 
flavor  of  food,  the  fragrance  of  odors,  the  harmony  of  sounds.  He  is 
whatever  is  capable  of  producing  real  pleasure,  because  He  emi- 
nently possesses  all  felicity,  and  because  all  kinds  of  felicity  flow 
from  Him  as  their  spring.  Because  we  love  pleasure  we  ought  to 
love  God,  from  whom  pleasure  proceeds ;  because  we  love  pleasure 
we  ought  to  abstain  from  it,  when  God  prohibits  it,  because  He  is 
infinitely  able  to  indemnifj''  us  for  all  the  sacrifices  we  make  to  His 
orders.  To  ascend  from  creatures  to  the  Creator  is  the  last  remedy 
we  prescribe  for  the  disorders  of  the  passions.  Great  duties  they 
are :  but  they  are  founded  on  strong  motives. 

Of  these  St.  Peter  mentions  one  of'  singular  efiicacy,  that  is,  that 
we  are  "strangers  and  pilgrims"  upon  earth.  "Dearly  beloved, 
I  beseech  you  as  strangers  and  pilgrims,  abstain  from  fleshly  lusts, 
which  war  against  the  soul."  The  believers  to  whom  the  Apostle 
wrote  this  epistle  were  "  strangers  and  pilgrims"  in  three  senses — as 
exiles — as  Christians — and  as  mortals. 

1.  As  exiles.  This  epistle  is  addressed  to  such  strangers  as 
were  scattered  throughout  Pontus,  Galatia,  Cappadocia,  Asia,  and 
Bithynia.  But  who  were  these  strangers?  Commentators  are 
divided.  Some  think  they  were  Jews  who  had  been  carried  out  of 
their  country  in  divers  revolutions  under  Tiglath  Pileser,  Shalman- 
eser,  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  Ptolemy.  Others  think  they  were  the 
Jewish  Christians  who  fled  on  account  of  the  martyrdom  of  Stephen. 
Certain  it  is  these  Christians  were  stranger  and  probably  exiles  for 
religion.  Now  people  of  this  character  have  special  motives  to  gov- 
ern their  passions. 

Strangers  are  generally  very  little  beloved  in  the  place  of  their 
exile.  Although  rational  people  treat  them  with  hospitality ;  though 
nature  inspires  some  with  respect  for  the  wretched  of  every  char- 
acter ;  though  piety  animates  some  with  veneration  for  people  firm 
in  their  religious  sentiments;  yet,  it  must  be  allowed,  the  bulk 
of  the  people  usually  see  them  with  other  eyes ;  they  envy  them 
the  air  they  breathe,  and  the  earth  they  walk  on ;  they  consider 
them  as  so  many  usurpers  of  their  rights ;  and  they  think  that 
as  much  as  exiles  partake  of  the  benefits  of  government,  and 
the  liberty  of  trade,  so  much  they  retrench  from  the  portion  of  the 
natives. 

Besides,  the  people  commonly  judge  of  merit  by  fortune,  and  as 
fortune  and  banishment  seldom  go  together,  popular  prejudice  sel- 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OF    THE    PASSIONS.     179 

dom  runs  high  in  favor  of  exiles.  Jealousy  views  them  with  a  sus- 
picious eye,  malice  imputes  crimes  to  them,  injustice  accuses  them 
for  public  calamities we  will  not  enlarge.  Let  an  invio- 
lable fidelity  to  the  state,  an  unsuspected  love  to  government,  an 
unreserved  conformity  to  religion,  silence  accusation,  and  compel,  so 
to  speak,  an  esteem  that  is  not  natural  and  free.  Moreover,  relig- 
ious exiles  have  given  up  a  great  deal  for  conscience,  and  they  must 
choose  either  to  lose  the  reward  of  their  former  labors,  or  to  perse- 
vere. A  man  who  has  only  taken  a  few  easy  steps  in  religion,  if  he 
let  loose  his  passions,  may  be  supposed  rational  in  this,  his  life  is  all 
of  a  piece.  He  considers  present  interest  as  the  supreme  good,  and 
he  employs  himself  wholly  in  advancing  his  present  interest,  he 
lays  down  a  principle,  he  infers  a  consequence,  and  he  makes  sin 
produce  all  possible  advantage.  An  abominable  principle  certainly, 
but  a  uniform  train  of  principle  and  consequence  ;  a  fatal  advantage 
in  a  future  state,  but  a  real  advantage  in  the  present :  but  such  a 
stranger  as  we  have  described,  a  man  banished  his  country  for  relig- 
ion, if  he  continues  to  gratify  fleshly  passions,  is  a  contradictory 
creature,  a  sort  of  idiot,  who  is  at  one  and  the  same  time  a  martyr 
to  vice  and  a  martyr  to  virtue.  He  has  the  fatal  secret  of  render- 
ing both  time  and  eternity  wretched,  and  arming  against  himself 
heaven  and  earth,  God  and  Satan,  paradise  and  hell.  On  the  one 
hand,  for  the  sake  of  religion  he  quits  every  thing  dear,  and  re- 
nounces the  pleasure  of  his  native  soil,  the  society  of  his  friends, 
family  connections,  and  every  prospect  of  preferment  and  fortune ; 
thus  he  is  a  martyr  for  virtue,  by  this  he  renders  the  present  life 
inconvenient,  and  arms  against  himself  the  world,  Satan,  and  hell. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  stabs  the  practical  part  of  religion,  violates  all 
the  sacred  laws  of  austerity,  retirement,  humility,  patience,  and  love, 
all  which  religion  most  earnestly  recommends ;  by  so  doing  he  be- 
comes a  martyr  for  sin,  renders  futurity  miserable,  and  arms  against 
himself  God,  heaven,  and  eternity.  The  same  God  who  forbade 
superstition  and  idolatry,  enjoined  all  the  virtues  we  have  enume- 
rated, and  prohibited  every  opposite  vice.  If  men  be  determined  to 
be  damned,  better  go  the  broad  than  the  narrow  way.  Who  but  a 
madman  would  attempt  to  go  to  hell  by  encountering  the  difficul- 
ties that  lie  in  the  way  to  heaven  I 

2.  The  believers  to  whom  Peter  wrote  were  strangers  as  Chris- 
tians^ and  therefore  strangers  because  believers.  What  is  the  funda- 
mental maxim  of  the  Christian  religion?  Jesus  Christ  told  Pilate, 
"  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world."  This  is  the  maxim  of  a  Chris- 
tian, the  first  great  leading  principle,  "  his  kingdom  is  not  of  this 


180  JAMES    SAURIN. 

world ;"  his  happiness  and  misery,  his  elevation  and  depression,  de- 
pend on  nothing  in  this  world. 

The  first  principle  is  the  ground  of  the  Apostle's  exhortation. 
The  passions  destroy  this  maxim  by  supposing  the  world  capable  of 
making  us  happy  or  miserable.  Eevenge  supposes  our  honor  to 
depend  on  the  world,  on  the  opinion  of  those  idiots  who  have  deter- 
mined that  a  man  of  honor  ought  to  revenge  an  affront.  Ambition 
supposes  our  elevation  to  depend  on  the  world,  that  is,  on  the  digni- 
ties which  ambitious  men  idolize.  Avarice  supposes  our  riches 
depend  on  this  world,  on  gold,  silver,  and  estates. 

These  are  not  the  ideas  of  a  Christian.  His  honor  is  not  of  this 
world,  it  depends  on  the  ideas  of  God,  who  is  a  just  dispenser  of 
glory.  His  elevation  is  not  of  this  world,  it  depends  on  thrones  and 
crowns  which  God  prepares.  His  riches  are  not  of  this  world,  they 
depend  on  treasures  in  heaven,  where  "  thieves  do  not  break  through 
and  steal."  It  is  allowable  for  a  man  educated  in  these  great  princi- 
ciples,  but  whose  infirmity  prevents  his  always  thinking  on  them ;  it 
is  indeed  allowable  for  a  man  who  can  not  always  bend  his  mind  to 
reflection,  meditation,  and  elevation  above  the  world ;  it  is  indeed 
allowable  for  such  a  man  sometimes  to  unbend  his  mind,  to  amuse 
himself  with  cultivating  a  tulip,  or  embellishing  his  head  with  a 
crown ;  but  that  this  tulip,  that  this  crown  should  seriously  occupy 
such  a  man — that  they  should  take  up  the  principal  attention  of  a 
Christian  who  has  such  refined  ideas  and  such  glorious  hopes,  this, 
this  is  entirely  incompatible. 

3.  In  fine,  we  are  strangers  and  pilgrims  by  necessity  of  nature 
as  mortal  men.  If  this  life  were  eternal,  it  would  be  a  question 
whether  it  were  more  advantageous  for  man  to  gratify  his  passions 
than  to  subdue  them — whether  the  tranquillity,  the  equanimity,  the 
calm  of  a  man  perfectly  free  and  entirely  master  of  himself,  would 
not  be  preferable  to  the  troubles,  conflicts,  and  turbulence  of  a  man 
in  bondage  to  his  passions.  Passing  this  question,  we  will  grant 
that  were  this  life  eternal,  prudence  and  self-love,  well  understood, 
would  require  some  indulgence  of  passion.  In  this  case  there  would 
be  an  immense  distance  between  the  rich  and  the  poor,  and  riches 
should  be  acquired ;  there  would  be  an  immense  distance  between 
the  high  and  the  low,  and  elevation  should  be  sought ;  there  would 
be  an  immense  distance  between  him  who  mortified  his  senses  and 
him  who  gratified  them,  and  sensual  pleasures  would  be  requisite. 

But  death,  death  renders  all  these  things  alike;  at  least  it  makes 
so  little  difference  between  the  one  and  the  other,  that  it  is  hardly 
discernible.     The  most  sensible  motive  therefore  to  abate  the  pas- 


THE    NATURE    AND    CONTROL    OP    THE    PASSIONS.     181 

sions,  is  death.  The  tomb  is  the  best  course  of  morality.  Study 
avarice  in  the  coffin  of  a  miser ;  this  is  the  man  who  accumulated 
heap  upon  heap,  riches  upon  riches.  See  a  few  boards  inclose  him 
and  a  few  square  inches  of  earth  contain  him.  Study  ambition  in  the 
grave  of  that  enterprising  man ;  see  his  noble  designs,  his  extensive 
projects,  his  boundless  expedients  are  all  shattered  and  sunk  in  this 
fatal  gulf  of  human  projects.  Approach  the  tomb  of  the  proud  man, 
and  there  investigate  pride ;  see  the  mouth  that  pronounced  lofty 
expressions,  condemned  to  eternal  silence,  the  piercing  eyes  that  con- 
vulsed the  world  with  fear,  covered  with  a  midnight  gloom  ;  the  for- 
midable arm,  that  distributed  the  destinies  of  mankind,  without  motion 
and  life.  Go  to  the  tomb  of  the  nobleman,  and  there  study  quality ; 
behold  his  magnificent  titles,  his  royal  ancestors,  his  flattering  inscrip- 
tions, his  learned  genealogies,  are  all  gone,  or  going  to  be  lost  with 
himself  in  the  same  dust.  Study  voluptuousness  at  the  grave  of  the 
voluptuous;  see,  his  senses  are  destroyed,  his  organs  broken  to 
pieces,  his  bones  scattered  at  the  grave's  mouth,  and  the  whole  tem- 
ple of  sensual  pleasure  subverted  from  its  foundation. 

Here  we  finish  this  discourse.  There  is  a  great  difference  between 
this  and  other  subjects  of  discussion.  When  we  treat  of  a  point  of 
doctrine,  it  is  sufficient  that  you  hear  it,  and  remember  the  conse- 
quences drawn  from  it.  When  we  explain  a  difficult  text,  it  is 
enough  that  you  understand  it  and  recollect  it.  When  we  press 
home  a  particular  duty  of  morality,  it  is  sufficient  that  you  apply  it 
to  the  particular  circumstance  to  which  it  belongs. 

But  what  regards  the  passions  is  of  universal  and  perpetual  use. 
We  always  carry  the  principles  of  these  passions  within  us,  and  we 
should  always  have  assistance  at  hand  to  subdue  them.  Always 
surrounded  with  objects  of  our  passions,  we  should  always  be  guarded 
against  them.  We  should  remember  these  things  when  we  see  the 
benefits  of  fortune,  to  free  ourselves  from  an  immoderate  attachment 
to  them  ;  before  human  gi^andeur  to  despise  it;  before  sensual  objects 
to  subdue  them ;  before  our  enemy,  to  forgive  him ;  before  friends, 
children,  and  families,  to  hold  ourselves  disengaged  from  them.  We 
should  always  examine  in  what  part  of  ourselves  the  passions  hold 
their  throne,  whether  in  the  mind,  the  senses,  or  the  imagination,  or 
the  heart.  We  should  always  examine  whether  they  have  depraved 
the  heart,  defiled  the  imagination,  perverted  the  senses,  or  blinded 
the  mind.  We  should  ever  remember  that  we  are  strangers  upon 
earth,  that  to  this  our  condition  calls  us,  our  religion  invites  us,  and 
our  nature  compels  us. 

But  alas !     It  is  this,  it  is  this  general  influence  which  these  ex- 


182  JAMES    SAURIN. 

hortations  ought  to  have  over  our  lives,  that  makes  us  fear  we  have 
addressed  them  to  you  in  vain.  "When  we  treat  of  a  point  of  doc- 
trine, we  may  persuade  ourselves  it  has  been  understood.  When  we 
explain  a  difficult  test,  we  flatter  ourselves  we  have  thrown  some 
light  upon  it.  When  we  urge  a  moral  duty,  we  hojDe  the  next  occa- 
sion will  bring  it  to  your  memory :  and  yet  how  often  have  we 
deceived  ourselves  on  these  articles !  How  often  have  our  hopes 
been  vain  !  How  often  have  you  sent  us  empty  away,  even  though 
we  demanded  so  little !  What  will  be  done  to-day  ?  Who  that 
knows  a  little  of  mankind,  can  flatter  himself  that  a  discourse  intend- 
ed, in  regard  to  a  great  number,  to  change  all,  to  reform  all,  to  renew 
all,  will  be  directed  to  its  true  design ! 

But,  0  God,  there  yet  remains  one  resource,  it  is  Thy  grace,  it  is 
Thine  aid,  grace  that  we  have  a  thousand  times  turned  into  lasciv- 
iousness,  and  which  we  have  a  thousand  times  rejected ;  yet  after  all 
assisting  grace  which  we  most  humbly  venture  to  implore.  When 
we  approach  the  enemy,  we  earnestly  beseech  Thee  "  teach  our  hands 
to  war,  and  our  fingers  to  fight !"  When  we  did  attack  a  town,  we 
fervently  besought  Thee  to  render  it  accessible  to  us  !  Our  prayers 
entered  heaven,  our  enemies  fled  before  us.  Thou  didst  bring  us  into 
the  strong  city,  and  didst  lead  us  into  Edom.  The  walls  of  many  a 
Jericho  fell  at  the  sound  of  our  trumpets,  at  the  sight  of  Thine  ark, 
and  the  approach  of  Thy  priest :  but  the  old  man  is  an  enemy  far 
more  formidable  than  the  best  disciphned  armies,  and  it  is  harder  to 
conquer  the  passions  than  to  beat  down  the  walls  of  a  city!  O  help 
us  to  subdue  this  old  man,  as  Thou  hast  assisted  us  to  overcome 
other  enemies  !  Enable  us  to  triumph  over  our  passions  as  Thou 
hast  enabled  us  to  succeed  in  leveling  the  walls  of  a  city !  Stretch 
out  Thy  holy  arm  in  our  favor,  in  this  Church  as  in  the  field  of  bat- 
tle !  So  be  the  Protector  both  of  the  State  and  the  Church,  crown 
our  efforts  with  such  success  that  we  may  offer  the  most  noble  songs 
of  praise  to  Thy  glory.     Amen. 


DISCOURSE    FIFTY. FIFTH. 


ALEXANDER    VINET. 

The  "  Chalmers  of  Switzerland,"  as  Vinet  has  been  styled  by 
D'Aubigne  and  others,  was  born  at  Lausanne  in  1797,  and  educated  in 
his  native  town.  At  the  early  age  of  twenty  years  he  was  made  Pro- 
fessor of  the  French  language  in  the  University  of  Basel,  and  not  long 
after  was  ordained  at  Lausanne;  where,  in  1837,  he  was  appointed 
Professor  of  Theology  in  the  Institution  where  he  had  been  educated.  In 
this  office  he  remained  till  the  time  of  his  death,  the  4th  of  May,  1847. 

Vinet  was  a  champion  of  evangelical  orthodoxy,  a  brilliant  preacher, 
a  profound  philosopher,  and  an  ardent  Christian.  Many  of  his  dis- 
courses and  essays  were  translated  into  English  in  this  country,  some 
years  since,  by  the  Rev.  R.  Tunibull,  D.D.,  and  have  obtained  a  wide 
popularity.  A  critic  has  said  of  these  discourses,  "  We  scarcely  know 
whether  to  praise  most  the  brilliancy  of  the  author,  or  of  the  translator." 
Mr.  Chase,  in  his  "  Modern  French  Literature,"  says  of  Vinet's  works, 
"  They  unite  the  extensive  erudition  and  elevated  views  which  character- 
ize the  wi'iters  beyond  the  Rhine  with  the  charms  of  style,  the  exquisite 
Atticism^  which  belong  to  the  writers  of  France."  He  adds  that  "  no 
master  of  the  French  language,  since  the  days  of  Pascal,  has  presented 
a  more  perfect  combination  of  high  ineUectual  and  moral  endowments." 
The  following  discourse  is  worthy  of  Vinet's  reputation.  A  paragraph 
in  the  beginning,  with  reference  to  a  previous  discourse,  is  omitted. 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

"  Tilings  which  have  not  entered  into  the  heart  of  man." — 1  CoR.  ii.  9. 

"  I  do  not  comprehend,  therefore  I  do  not  believe."  "  The  Gros- 
pel  is  full  of  mysteries,  therefore  I  do  not  receive  the  Gospel :" — 
Such  is  one  of  the  favorite  arguments  of  infidelity.  To  see  how 
much  is  made  of  this,  and  what  confidence  it  inspires,  we  might 
believe  it  solid,  or,  at  least,  specious  ;  but  it  is  neither  the  one  nor  the 


184:  ALEXANDER    VINET. 

otlier ;  it  will  not  bear  the  slightest  attention,  the  most  superficial 
examination  of  reason  ;  and  if  it  still  enjoys  some  favor  in  the  world, 
this  is  but  a  proof  of  the  lightness  of  our  judgments  upon  things 
worthy  of  our  most  serious  attention. 

Upon  what,  in  fact,  does  this  argument  rest  ?  Upon  the  claim 
of  comprehending  every  thing  in  the  religion  which  God  has  offered 
or  could  offer  us.  A  claim  equally  unjust,  unreasonable,  useless. 
This  we  proceed  to  develop. 

1.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  an  unjust  claim.  It  is  to  demand  of  God 
what  He  does  not  owe  us.  To  jDrove  this,  let  us  suppose  that  God 
has  given  a  religion  to  man,  and  let  us  further  suppose  that  religion 
to  be  the  Gospel :  for  this  absolutely  changes  nothing  to  the  argu- 
ment. We  may  believe  that  God  was  free,  at  least,  with  reference 
to  us,  to  give  us  or  not  to  give  us  a  religion ;  but  it  must  be  admit- 
ted that  in  granting  it  He  contracts  engagements  to  us,  and  that  the 
first  favor  lays  Him  under  a  necessity  of  conferring  other  favors. 
For  this  is  merely  to  say  that  God  must  be  consistent,  and  that  He 
finishes  what  He  has  begun.  Since  it  is  by  a  written  revelation  He 
manifests  His  designs  resi^ecting  us,  it  is  necessary  He  should  fortify 
that  revelation  by  all  the  authority  which  would  at  least  determine 
us  to  receive  it ;  it  is  necessary  He  should  give  us  the  means  of 
judging  whether  the  men  who  speak  to  us  in  His  name  are  really 
sent  by  Him ;  in  a  word,  it  is  necessary  we  should  be  assured  that 
the  Bible  is  truly  the  word  of  God. 

It  would  not  indeed  be  necessary  that  the  conviction  of  each  of 
us  should  be  gained  by  the  same  kind  of  evidence.  Some  shall  be 
led  to  Christianity  bj  the  historical  or  external  arguments ;  they 
shall  prove  to  themselves  the  truth  of  the  Bible  as  the  truth  of  all 
history  is  proved ;  they  shall  satisfy  themselves  that  the  books  of 
which  it  is  composed  are  certainly  those  of  the  times  and  of  the 
authors  to  which  they  are  ascribed.  This  settled,  they  shall  com- 
pare the  prophecies  contained  in  these  ancient  documents  with  the 
events  that  have  happened  in  subsequent  ages ;  they  shall  assure 
themselves  of  the  reality  of  the  miraculous  facts  related  in  these 
books,  and  shall  thence  infer  the  necessary  intervention  of  Divine 
power,  which  alone  disposes  the  forces  of  nature,  and  can  alone  in- 
terrupt or  modify  their  action.  Others,  less  fitted  for  such  investiga- 
tions, shall  be  struck  with  the  internal  evidence  of  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures. Finding  there  the  state  of  their  souls  perfectly  described,  their 
wants  fully  expressed,  and  the  true  remedies  for  their  maladies  com- 
pletely indicated ;  struck  with  a  character  of  truth  and  candor 
which  nothing  can  imitate ;  in  fine,  feeling  themselves  in  their  inner 


THE    MYSTERIES    OP    CHRISTIANITY.  185 

nature  moved,  changed,  renovated,  by  the  mysterious  influence  of 
these  Holy  "Writings,  they  shall  acquire,  by  such  means,  a  conviction 
of  which  they  can  not  always  give  an  account  to  others,  but  which 
is  not  the  less  legitimate,  irresistible,  and  immovable.  Such  is  the 
double  road  by  which  an  entrance  is  gained  into  the  asylum  of  faith. 
But  it  was  due  from  the  wisdom  of  God,  from  His  justice,  and,  we 
venture  to  say  it,  from  the  honor  of  His  government,  that  He  should 
open  to  man  this  double  road ;  for,  if  He  desired  man  to  be  saved 
by  knowledge,  on  the  same  principle  He  engaged  Himself  to  furnish 
him  the  means  of  knowledge. 

Behold,  whence  come  the  obligations  of  the  Deity  with  reference 
to  us — which  obligations  He  has  fulfilled.  Enter  on  this  double 
method  of  proof  Interrogate  history,  time  and  places,  respecting 
the  authenticity  of  the  Scriptures ;  grasp  all  the  difliculties,  sound 
all  the  objections ;  do  not  permit  yourselves  to  be  too  easily  con- 
vinced ;  be  the  more  severe  upon  that  book,  as  it  professes  to  contain 
the  sovereign  rule  of  your  life,  and  the  disposal  of  your  destiny ; 
you  are  permitted  to  do  this,  nay,  you  are  encouraged  to  do  it,  pro- 
vided you  proceed  to  the  investigation  with  the  requisite  capacities 
and  with  pure  intentions.  Or,  if  you  prefer  another  method,  exam- 
ine, with  an  honest  heart,  the  contents  of  the  Scriptures ;  inquire, 
while  you  run  over  the  words  of  Jesus,  if  ever  man  spake  like  this 
Man;  inquire  if  the  wants  of  your  soul,  long  deceived,  and  the 
anxieties  of  your  spirit,  long  cherished  in  vain,  do  not,  in  the  teach- 
ing and  work  of  Christ,  find  that  satisfaction  and  repose  which  no 
wisdom  was  ever  able  to  procure  you  ;  breathe,  if  I  may  thus  ex- 
press myself,  that  perfume  of  truth,  of  candor  and  purity,  which  ex- 
hales from  every  page  of  the  Gospel ;  see,  if,  in  all  these  respects,  it 
does  not  bear  the  undeniable  seal  of  inspiration  and  divinity. 
Finally,  test  it,  and  if  the  Gospel  produces  upon  you  a  contrary 
effect,  return  to  the  books  and  the  wisdom  of  men,  and  ask  of  them 
what  Christ  has  not  been  able  to  give  you. 

But  if,  neglecting  these  two  ways,  made  accessible  to  you,  and 
trodden  by  the  feet  of  ages,  you  desire,  before  all,  that  the  Christian 
religion  should,  in  every  point,  render  itself  comprehensible  to  your 
mind,  and  complacently  strip  itself  of  all  mysteries  ;  if  you  wish  to 
penetrate  beyond  the  vail,  to  find  there,  not  the  aliment  which  gives 
life  to  the  soul,  but  that  which  would  gTatify  your  restless  curiosity, 
I  maintain  that  you  raise  against  God  a  claim  the  most  indiscreet, 
the  most  rash  and  unjust;  for  He  has  never  engaged,  either  tacitly 
or  expressly,  to  discover  to  you  the  secret  which  your  eye  craves ; 
and  such  audacious  importunity  is  fit  only  to  excite  His  indignation. 


186  ALEXANDER    VINET. 

He  has  given  you  what  He  owed  you,  more  indeed  than  He  owed 
you ; — the  rest  is  with  Himself. 

If  a  claim  so  unjust  could  be  admitted,  where,  I  ask  you,  would 
be  the  limit  of  your  demands  ?  Already  you  require  more  from 
Grod  than  He  has  accorded  to  angels ;  for  these  eternal  mysteries 
which  trouble  you — the  harmony  of  the  Divine  prescience  with  hu- 
man freedom — the  origin  of  evil  and  its  ineffable  remedy — the  in- 
carnation of  the  eternal  Word — the  relations  of  the  God-man  with 
his  Father — the  atoning  virtue  of  His  sacrifice — the  regenerating 
efficacy  of  the  Spirit-comforter — all  these  things  are  secrets,  the 
knowledge  of  which  is  hidden  from  angels  themselves,  who,  accord- 
ing to  the  word  of  the  Apostle,  stoop  to  explore  their  depths,  and 
can  not. 

If  you  reproach  the  Eternal  for  having  kept  the  knowledge  of 
these  Divine  mysteries  to  Himself,  why  do  you  not  reproach  Him 
for  the  thousand  other  limits  He  has  prescribed  to  you  ?  Why  not 
reproach  Him  for  not  having  given  you  wings  like  a  bird,  to  visit 
the  regions  which,  till  now,  have  been  scanned  only  by  your  eyes  ? 
Why  not  reproach  Him  for  not  giving  you,  besides  the  five  senses 
with  which  you  are  provided,  ten  other  senses  which  He  has  per- 
haps granted  to  other  creatures,  and  which  procure  for  them  percep- 
tions of  which  you  have  no  idea  ?  Why  not,  in  fine,  reproach  Him 
for  having  caused  the  darkness  of  night  to  succeed  the  brightness 
of  day  invariably  on  the  earth  ?  Ah !  you  do  not  reproach  Him  for 
that.  You  love  that  night  which  brings  rest  to  so  many  fatigued  bodies 
and  weary  spirits ;  which  suspends,  in  so  many  wretches,  the  feeling 
of  grief; — that  night,  during  which  orphans,  slaves,  and  criminals 
cease  to  be,  because  over  all  their  misfortunes  and  sufferings  it 
spreads,  with  the  opiate  of  sleep,  the  thick  vail  of  oblivion ;  you 
love  that  night  which,  peopling  the  deserts  of  the  heavens  with  ten 
thousand  stars,  not  known  to  the  day,  reveals  the  infinite  to  our  rav- 
ished imagination. 

Well,  then,  why  do  you  not,  for  a  similar  reason,  love  the  night 
of  divine  mysteries — night,  gracious  and  salutary,  in  which  reason 
humbles  itself,  and  finds  refreshment  and  repose ;  where  the  dark- 
ness even  is  a  revelation ;  where  one  of  the  principal  attributes  of 
God,  immensity,  discovers  itself  much  more  fully  to  our  mind; 
where,  in  fine,  the  tender  relations  He  has  permitted  us  to  form  with 
Himself,  are  guarded  from  all  admixture  of  familiarity  by  the 
thought  that  the  Being  who  has  humbled  Himself  to  us,  is,  at  the 
same  time,  the  inconceivable  God  who  reigns  before  all  time,  who 
includes  in  Himself  all  existences  and  all  conditions  of  existence, 


THE    MYSTERIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  187 

the  center  of  all  tliouglit,  the  law  of  all  law,  the  supreme  and  final 
reason  of  every  thing !  So  that,  if  you  are  just,  instead  of  reproach- 
ing Him  for  the  secrets  of  religion,  you  will  bless  Him  that  He  has 
enveloped  you  in  mysteries. 

2.  But  this  claim  is  not  only  unjust  toward  God ;  it  is  also  in 
itself  exceedingly  unreasonable. 

What  is  religion  ?  It  is  God  putting  Himself  in  communication 
with  man ;  the  Creator  with  the  creature,  the  infinite  with  the  finite. 
There  already,  without  going  further,  is  a  mystery  ;  a  mystery  com- 
mon to  all  religious,  impenetrable  in  all,  religions.  If  then,  every 
thing  which  is  a  mystery  offends  you,  you  are  arrested  on  the 
threshold,  I  will  not  say  of  Christianity,  but  of  every  religion ;  I 
say,  even  of  that  religion  which  is  called  natural^  because  it  rejects 
revelation  and  miracles ;  for  it  necessarily  implies,  at  the  very  least, 
a  connection,  a  communication  of  some  sort  between  God  and  man 
— the  contrary  being  equivalent  to  atheism.  Your  claim  prevents 
you  from  having  any  belief;  and  because  you  have  not  been  will- 
ing to  be  Christians,  it  will  not  allow  you  to  be  Deists. 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence,"  you  say,  "  we  pass  over  that  diffi- 
culty ;  we  suppose  between  God  and  us  connections  we  can  not  con- 
ceive ;  we  admit  them  because  they  are  necessary  to  us.  But  this 
is  the  only  step  we  are  willing  to  take :  we  have  already  yielded  too 
much  to  yield  more."  Say  more — say  you  have  granted  too  much 
not  to  grant  much  more,  not  to  grant  all !  You  have  consented  to 
admit,  without  comprehending  it,  that  there  may  be  communica- 
tions from  God  to  you,  and  from  you  to  God.  But  consider  well 
what  is  implied  in  such  a  supposition.  It  implies  that  you  are  de- 
pendent, and  yet  free — this  you  do  not  comprehend ; — it  implies 
that  the  Spirit  of  God  can  make  itself  understood  by  your  spirit — 
this  you  do  not  comprehend  ; — it  implies  that  your  prayers  may  ex- 
ert an  influence  on  the  will  of  God — this  you  do  not  comprehend. 
It  is  necessary  you  should  receive  all  these  mysteries,  in  order  to 
establish  with  God  connections  the  most  vague  and  superficial,  and 
by  the  very  side  of  which  atheism  is  placed.  And  when,  by  a 
powerful  effort  with  yourselves  you  have  done  so  much  as  to  admit 
these  mysteries,  you  recoil  from  those  of  Christianity  !  You  have 
accepted  the  foundation,  and  refuse  the  superstructure !  You  have 
accepted  the  principle  and  refuse  the  details !  You  are  right,  no 
doubt,  so  soon  as  it  is  proved  to  you,  that  the  religion  which  con- 
tains these  mysteries  does  not  come  from  God ;  or  rather,  that  these 
mysteries  contain  contradictory  ideas.  But  you  are  not  justified  in 
denying  them,  for  the  sole  reason  that  you  do  not  understand  them ; 


188  ALEXANDER    VINET. 

and  fhe  reception  you  have  given  to  the  first  kind  of  mysteries  com- 
pels you,  by  the  same  rule,  to  receive  the  others. 

This  is  not  all.  Not  only  are  mysteries  an  inseparable  part,  nay, 
the  very  substance  of  all  religion,  but  it  is  absolutely  impossible  that 
a  true  religion  should  not  present  a  great  number  of  mysteries.  If 
it  is  true,  it  ought  to  teach  more  truths  respecting  God  and  Divine 
things  than  any  other,  than  all  others  together ;  but  each  of  these 
truths  has  a  relation  to  the  infinite,  and  by  consequence  borders  on 
a  myster}^  How  should  it  be  otherwise  in  religion,  when  it  is  thus 
in  nature  itself?  Behold  God  in  nature !  The  more  He  gives  us  to 
contemplate,  the  more  He  gives  to  astonish  us.  To  each  creature  is 
attached  some  mystery.  A  grain  of  sand  is  an  abyss !  Now,  if  the 
manifestation  which  God  has  made  of  Himself  in  nature  suggests  to 
the  observer  a  thousand  questions  which  can  not  be  answered,  how 
will  it  be,  when  to  that  first  revelation,  another  is  added  ;  when  God 
the  Creator  and  Preserver  reveals  Himself  under  new  aspects  as  God 
the  Keconciler  and  Saviour  ?  Shall  not  mysteries  multiply  with  dis- 
coveries? With  each  new  day  shall  we  not  see  associated  a  new 
night  ?  And  shall  we  not  purchase  each  increase  of  knowledge  with 
an  increase  of  ignorance  ?  Has  not  the  doctrine  of  grace,  so  neces- 
sary, so  consoling,  alone  opened  a  profound  abyss,  into  which,  for 
eighteen  centuries,  rash  and  restless  spirits  have  been  constantly 
plunging  ? 

It  is,  then,  clearly  necessary  that  Christianity  should,  more  than 
any  other  religion,  be  mysterious,  simply  because  it  is  true.  Like 
mountains,  which,  the  higher  they  are,  cast  the  larger  shadows,  the 
Gospel  is  the  more  obscure  and  mysterious  on  account  of  its  sublim- 
ity. After  this,  will  you  be  indignant  that  you  do  not  comprehend 
every  thing  in  the  Gospel  ?  It  would,  forsooth,  be  a  truly  surpris- 
ing thing  if  the  ocean  could  not  be  held  in  the  hollow  of  your  hand, 
or  uncreated  wisdom  within  the  limits  of  your  intelligence !  It 
would  be  truly  unfortunate  if  a  finite  being  could  not  embrace  the 
infinite,  and  that,  in  the  vast  assemblage  of  things  there  should  be 
some  idea  beyond  its  grasp !  In  other  words,  it  would  be  truly 
unfortunate  if  God  Himself  should  know  something  which  man  does 
not  know  1 

Let  us  acknowledge,  then,  how  insensate  is  such  a  claim  when  it 
is  made  with  reference  to  religion. 

But  let  us  also  recollect  how  much,  in  making  such  a  claim,  we 
shall  be  in  opposition  to  ourselves  ;  for  the  submission  we  dislike  in 
reliction,  we  cherish  in  a  thousand  other  things.  It  happens  to  us 
every  day  to  adniit  things  we  do  not  understand,  and  to  do  so  with- 


THE    MYSTERIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  189 

out  the  least  repugnance.  The  things,  the  knowledge  of  which  is 
refused  us,  are  much  more  numerous  than  we  perhaps  think.  Few 
diamonds  are  perfectly  pure ;  still  fewer  truths  are  perfectly  clear. 
The  union  of  our  soul  with  our  body  is  a  mystery — our  most  famil- 
iar emotions  and  affections  are  a  mystery — the  action  of  thought  and 
of  will  is  a  mystery — our  very  existence  is  a  mystery.  Why  do  we 
admit  these  various  facts  ?  Is  it  because  we  understand  them  ?  No, 
certainly,  but  because  they  are  self-evident,  and  because  they  are 
truths  by  which  we  live.  In  religion  we  have  no  other  course  to 
take.  We  ought  to  know  whether  it  is  true  and  necessary ;  and 
once  convinced  of  these  two  points,  we  ought,  like  the  angels,  to 
submit  to  the  necessity  of  being  ignorant  of  some  things.  And  why 
do  we  not  submit  cheerfully  to  a  privation  which,  after  all,  is  not 
one? 

3.  To  desire  the  knowledge  of  mysteries  is  to  desire  what  is 
utterly  useless  ;  it  is  to  raise,  as  I  have  said  before,  a  claim  the  most 
vain  and  idle.  What,  in  reference  to  us  is  the  object  of  the  Gospel? 
Evidently  to  regenerate  and  save  us.  But  it  attains  this  end  wholly 
by  the  things  it  reveals.  Of  what  use  would  it  be  to  know  those  it 
conceals  from  us  ?  We  possess  the  knowledge  which  can  enlighten 
our  consciences,  rectify  our  inclinations,  renew  our  hearts;  what 
should  we  gain  if  we  possessed  other  knowledge  ?  It  infinitely  con- 
cerns us  to  know  that  the  Bible  is  the  word  of  God ;  does  it  equally 
concern  us  to  know  in  what  way  the  holy  men  that  wrote  it  were 
moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  It  is  of  infinite  moment  to  us  to  know 
that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God,  need  we  know  precisely  in  what 
way  the  Divine  and  human  natures  are  united  in  His  adorable  per- 
son ?  It  is  of  infinite  importance  for  us  to  know  that  unless  we  are 
born  again  we  can  not  enter  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  is  the  Author  of  the  new  birth — shall  we  be  further  advanced 
if  we  know  the  Divine  process  by  which  that  wonder  is  performed  ? 
Is  it  not  enough  for  us  to  know  the  truths  that  save  ?  Of  what  use, 
then,  would  it  be  to  know  those  which  have  not  the  slightest  bearing 
on  our  salvation?  "  Though  I  know  all  mysteries,"  says  St.  Paul, 
"  and  have  not  charity,  I  am  nothing."  St.  Paul  was  content  not  to 
know,  provided  he  had  charity ;  shall  not  we,  following  his  example, 
be  content  also  without  knowledge,  provided  that,  like  him,  we  have 
charity,  that  is  to  say,  life  ? 

But  some  one  will  say  "If  the  knowledge  of  mysteries  is  really 
without  influence  on  our  salvation,  why  have  they  been  indicated  to 
us  at  all  ?"  What  if  it  should  be  to  teach  us  not  to  be  too  prodigal 
of  our  wherefores!  if  it  should  be  to  serve  as  an  exercise  of  our 


190  ALEXANDER    YINET. 

faith,  a  test  of  our  submission !     But  we  will  not  stop  with  such  a 
reply. 

Observe,  I  pray  you,  in  what  manner  the  mysteries  of  which  you 
complain  have  taken  their  part  in  religion.  You  readily  perceive 
they  are  not  by  themselves,  but  associated  with  truths  which  have  a 
direct  bearing  on  your  salvation.  They  contain  them,  they  serve  to 
envelop  them ;  but  they  are  not  themselves  the  truths  that  save.  .  It 
is  with  these  mysteries  as  it  is  with  the  vessel  that  contains  a  medicinal 
draught — it  is  not  the  vessel  that  cures,  but  the  draught;  jet  the 
draught  could  not  be  presented  without  the  vessel.  Thus  each  truth 
that  saves  is  contained  in  a  mystery,  which,  in  itself,  has  no  power 
to  save.  So  the  great  work  of  expiation  is  necessarily  attached  to 
the  incarnation  of  the  Son  of  God,  which  is  a  mystery ;  so  the  sanc- 
tifying graces  of  the  new  covenant  are  necessarily  connected  with 
the  efELuence  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  which  is  a  mystery;  so,  too,  the 
divinity  Of  religion  finds  a  seal  and  an  attestation  in  the  miracles, 
which  are  mysteries.  Every  where  the  light  is  born  from  darkness, 
and  darkness  accompanies  the  light.  These  two  orders  of  truths  are 
so  united,  so  interlinked,  that  you  can  not  remove  the  one  without 
the  other,  and  each  of  the  mysteries  you  attempt  to  tear  from  relig- 
ion would  carry  with  it  one  of  the  truths  which  bear  directly  on  your 
regeneration  and  salvation.  Accept  the  mysteries,  then,  not  as  truths 
that  can  save  you,  but  as  the  necessary  conditions  of  the  merciful 
work  of  the  Lord  in  your  behalf. 

The  true  point  at  issue  in  reference  to  religion  is  this : — Does  the 
religion  which  is  proposed  to  us,  change  the  heart,  unite  to  God,  pre- 
pare for  heaven?  If  Christianity  produces  these  effects,  we  will 
leave  the  enemies  of  the  cross  free  to  revolt  against  its  mysteries,  and 
tax  them  with  absurdity.  The  Gospel,  we  will  say  to  them,  is  then 
an  absurdity ;  you  have  discovered  it.  But  behold  what  a  new  sj^ecies 
of  absurdity  that  certainly  is  which  attaches  man  to  all  his  duties, 
regulates  human  life  better  than  all  the  doctrines  of  sages,  plants  in 
his  bosom  harmony,  order,  and  peace,  causes  him  joyfully  to  fulfill 
all  the  ofiices  of  civil  life,  renders  him  better  fitted  to  live,  better  fit- 
ted to  die,  and  which,  were  it  generally  received,  would  be  the  support 
and  safeguard  of  society !  Cite  to  us,  among  all  human  absurdities, 
a  single  one  which  produces  such  effects.  If  that  "  foolishness"  we 
preach  produces  effects  like  these,  is  it  not  natural  to  conclude  that 
it  is  truth  itself?  And  if  these  things  have  not  entered  the  heart  of 
man,  it  is  not  because  they  are  absurd,  but  because  they  are  Divine. 

Make,  my  readers,  but  a  single  reflection.     You  are  obliged  to 
confess  that  none  of  the  religions  which  man  may  invent  can  satisfy 


THE    MYSTERIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  IQl 

his  wants,  or  save  his  soul.  Thereupon  you  have  a  choice  to  make. 
You  will  either  reject  them  all  as  insufficient  and  false,  and  seek  for 
nothing  better,  since  man  can  not  invent  better,  and  then  you  will 
abandon  to  chance,  to  caprice  of  temperament  or  of  opinion,  your 
moral  life  and  future  destiny  ;  or  you  will  adopt  that  other  religion 
which  some  treat  as  folly,  and  it  will  render  you  holy  and  pure, 
blameless  in  the  midst  of  a  perverse  generation,  united  to  God  by 
love,  and  to  your  brethren  by  charity,  indefatigable  in  doing  good, 
happy  in  life,  happy  in  death.  Suppose,  after  all  this,  you  shall  be 
told  that  this  religion  is  false  ;  but,  meanwhile,  it  has  restored  in  you 
the  image  of  God,  re-established  your  primitive  connections  with 
that  great  Being,  and  put  you  in  a  condition  to  enjoy  life  and  the 
happiness  of  heaven.  By  means  of  it  you  have  become  such  that 
at  the  last  day,  it  is  impossible  that  God  should  not  receive  you  as 
His  children  and  make  you  partakers  of  His  glory.  You  are  made 
fit  for  paradise,  nay,  paradise  has  commenced  for  you  even  here,  be- 
cause you  love.  This  religion  has  done  for  you  what  all  religion 
proposes,  and  what  no  other  has  realized.  Nevertheless,  by  the  sup- 
position, it  is  false !  And  what  more  could  it  do,  were  it  true  ? 
Eather  do  you  not  see  that  this  is  a  splendid  proof  of  its  truth  ?  Do 
you  not  see  that  it  is  impossible  that  a  religion  which  leads  to  God 
should  not  come  from  God,  and  that  the  absurdity  is  precisely  that 
of  supposing  that  you  can  be  regenerated  by  a  falsehood  ? 

Suppose  that  afterward,  as  at  the  first,  you  do  not  comprehend. 
It  seems  necessary,  then,  you  should  be  saved  by  the  things  you  do 
not  comprehend.  Is  that  a  misfortune  ?  Are  you  the  less  saved  ? 
Does  it  become  you  to  demand  from  God  an  explanation  of  an  ob- 
scurity which  does  not  injure  you,  when,  with  reference  to  every 
thing  essential.  He  has  been  prodigal  of  light  ?  The  first  disciples 
of  Jesus,  men  without  culture  and  learning,  received  truths  which 
they  did  not  comprehend,  and  spread  them  through  the  world.  A 
crowd  of  sages  and  men  of  genius  have  received,  from  the  hands  of 
these  poor  people,  truths  which  they  comprehended  no  more  than 
they.  The  ignorance  of  the  one,  and  the  science  of  the  other,  have 
been  equally  docile.  Do,  then,  as  the  ignorant  and  the  wise  have 
done.  Embrace  with  affection  those  truths  which  have  never  entered 
into  your  heart,  and  which  will  save  you.  Do  not  lose,  in  vain  dis- 
cussions, the  time  which  is  gliding  away,  and  which  is  bearing  you 
into  the  cheering  or  appalling  light  of  eternity.  Hasten  to  be  saved. 
Love  now  ;  one  day  you  will  know.  May  the  Lord  Jesus  prepare 
you  for  that  period  of  light,  of  repose,  and  of  happiness ! 


kdclj  0f  t\t  ^cottisl]  pulpit. 


THE   SCOTTISH  PULPIT. 

The  history  of  the  Scottish  pulpit  naturally  divides  itself  into  three 
periods :  first,  that  between  the  Reformation  and  the  Revolution  in 
1689 ;  second,  that  between  the  Revolution  and  the  ecclesiastical  Dis- 
ruption in  1843  ;  and  third,  the  modei'n  period,  or  that  from  the  Disrup- 
tion to  the  present  time. 

Previous  to  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  the  pulpit  in  Scotland,  Uke 
that  of  other  countries  in  Europe,  was  prostrate.  The  preacher  had 
been  supplanted  by  the  priest,  and  the  pulpit  demolished  to  make  way 
for  the  altar.  Teachers  of  the  true  faith,  probably  as  early  as  the  last 
of  the  second  century,  had  there  instructed  the-  people.  The  Culdees, 
or  refugee-servants-of-God,  as  their  name  seems  to  imply,  had  early  fled 
from  persecution,  and  certainly,  as  soon  as  the  sixth  century,  had  made 
the  island  of  lona  their  home,  and  the  seat  of  their  Christian  influence. 
Here  they  prosecuted  their  mmistry,  first  among  the  warlike  Scots  and 
Picts,  and  then  among  the  pagan  Saxons,  with  no  httle  success.  But 
they  soon  began  to  melt  away  before  the  encroachments  of  the  Roman 
pontiff",  to  whom  they  yielded  up  their  spiritual  Hberty  in  1176,  and,  a 
century  later,  were  finally  suppressed. 

Thenceforward  the  reign  of  popery  was  complete.  Scotland  was  a 
rich  inheritance  of  the  see  of  Rome.  Half  the  kingdom  belonged  to 
the  clergy.  From  the  poAver  of  the  priesthood  it  is  easy  to  estimate  the 
power  of  the  pulpit.  It  was  imbecile  for  good.  Gorged  with  wealth, 
reveling  in  luxury  and  sensual  indulgence,  what  cared  the  clergy  for 
things  spiritual  ?  Had  they  possessed  the  disposition  to  reform  the 
people,  they  had  lacked  the  power,-  from  ignorance.  Even  the  bishops 
knew  little  of  the  Sci'iptures.  "  I  thank  God,"  said  the  Bishop  of  Dun- 
keld,  "  that  I  have  lived  well  these  many  years,  and  never  knew  either 
the  Old  or  the  New  Testament."  The  chief  care  of  the  ministry  was  to 
presei've  unbroken  the  spell  of  darkness  that  bound  the  Avhole  nation. 
And  they  had  long  been  successful.  An  act  of  the  Scottish  ParHament 
in  1525,  prohibiting  the  importation  of  Luther's  writings,  alleged  that 
that  country  had  always  "  bene  clene  of  all  sic  filth  and  vice  !" 

But  that  is  a  long  night  which  knows  no  dawn.  The  very  act  re- 
ferred to  is  suggestive.  It  proved  the  uprising  of  a  better  day.  The 
doctrmes  of  the  Culdees  furnished  points  of  connection  for  those  of  the 


196  THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT. 

Reformation.  The  discij^les  of  Wickliffe  and  Huss  make  their  appear- 
ance. Patrick  Hamilton  steps  forward ;  and,  later  still,  George  Wishart, 
and  others  of  kindred  spirit.  In  vain  the  demon  of  persecution  rears 
his  bloody  head.  The  brazen  ball  with  wliicli  the  mouth  of  Paul  Craw 
is  stopped,  that  he  preach  not  while  burning  at  the  stake,  does  not 
silence  the  voice  which  speaks  when  one  is  dead.  The  flames  that  blaze 
around  the  body  of  the  brilUant  young  Hamilton  are  but  the  emblem 
atic  resjjonse  of  his  dying  interrogation — "  How  long,  O  Lord,  shall 
darkness  cover  this  realm  ?"  The  sounduig  trumpet  that  gives  signal  to 
kindle  the  pile  in  the  midst  of  which  stands  the  mild,  the  gentle,  the 
patient,  the  eloquent  Wishart,  is  but  the  symbol  of  the  trumpet  voice 
of  the  jjrophetic  angel,  whose  everlasting  Gospel  is  about  to  be  proclaimed 
throughout  the  whole  kingdom. 

The  lion-souled  Knox  rises  up,  full  armed  and  equipped,  as  fi'om  the 
dust  of  his  martyred  brethren.  His  Avords  of  thunder  send  consterna- 
tion among  the  king's  enemies.  The  God  of  Israel  is  by  his  side.  He 
raises  uj)  helpers,  and  makes  strong  their  arms.  Great  is  their  sixccess. 
Images,  altars,  relics,  shrines  are  broken  in  pieces,  and,  in  some  cases, 
rehgious  houses,  in  order  that,  to  use  their  own  energetic  terms,  "  by 
pulling  doAvn  the  nests,  the  rooks  might  all  fly  away."  Never  was  a 
work  more  thorough  and  comjjlete.  Scarcely  a  vestige  of  the  "  auld 
scarlet  mither"  is  left  to  flaunt  in  the  air.  High  and  low,  rich  and  poor, 
come  under  the  strange  influence.  The  dust  is  brushed  fi'om  ofi"  the 
long-neglected  Bible ;  the  schools  are  opened ;  forgotten  tongues  give 
forth  divine  and  human  learning  ;  and  princes  and  cities  are  seen 
"  troopmg  apace  to  the  new-erected  banner  of  salvation." 

In  15G0,  notwithstanding  the  work  of  reform  had  encountered  the 
fiercest  opposition  from  the  papists,  the  Scottish  ParUament  formally 
abrogated  and  annulled  the  papal  jurisdiction  ;  and  in  1592,  by  an  Act 
of  ParUament,  the  Protestant  religion — embodied  according  to  the 
Articles  of  John  Knox — was  established,  and  taken  vmder  the  protec- 
tion and  2:)atronage  of  the  State. 

And  how  was  this  mighty  change  eflected  ?  Pre-eminently,  mider 
God,  by  the  indpit.  Of  books  there  were  then  but  few.  Of  modern 
forms  and  agencies  for  advancing  the  Gospel,  there  were  none.  Preach- 
ing was  almost  the  sole  instrumentality.  If,  then,  we  were  to  character- 
ize in  one  word  the  pulpit  of  the  Scottish  Reformers,  we  would  give 
to  it  the  attribute  of  powek.  Not  of  finish ;  not  of  beauty ;  not  of 
rhetorical  jjerfection  ;  but  of  strength^  soUdity,  power  y  fitly  symbolized 
in  the  real  old  six-sided  pulpit  of  John  Knox,  still  preserved  m  a  museum 
at  Edinburg,  made  of  solid  oak. 

But  fearful  storms  were  about  to  beat  upon  that  tower  of  strength, 
and  put  to  the  test  the  basis  upon  which  it  reposed.  The  seventeenth 
century  had  but  just  opened  when  efibrts  were  made,  by  King  James, 
to  enforce  episcopacy  upon  the  churches.     During  this  century  it  was 


THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT. 


197 


twice  declared  to  be  tlie  established  religion.  This  gave  rise  to 
struggles  for  its  resistance,  by  the  clergy  and  the  people,  which,  for 
incidents  of  thrilling  interest  and  sublime  importance,  are  almost  with- 
out a  parallel.  Those  incidents  can  not  be  here  minutely  narrated.  The 
proroguing,  by  the  king,  of  the  meetmgs  of  the  Presbyterian  Assembly  ; 
the  ejection  from  their  pulpits  and  their  livings  of  such  ministers  as 
could  not  in  conscience  conform  to  the  new  regime^  believing  it  to  be 
essentially  papal,  though  professedly  prelatic ;  their  cruel  imprisonments ; 
their  inhuman  slaughter  in  conflicts  arising  aut  of  the  assertion  of  their 
rights ;  the  temporary  relief  by  the  accession  of  Cromwell  to  the  British 
throne;  the  blighting  of  cherished  expectations  by  the  accession  of 
Charles  the  Second  in  1660  ;  his  efforts  to  overturn  the  whole  work  of 
the  Reformation ;  the  driving  to  the  fields  of  godly  ministers  who  per- 
sisted in  preaching  when  expelled  from  their  pulpits ;  the  terrible  en- 
ginery of  persecution  brought  to  bear  in  the  "  killing  time,''  beginning 
with  the  year  1684 ;  the  slight  relief  by  the  death  of  Charles ;  and  finally 
the  happy  termination  of  the  series  of  outrages  and  wrongs  by  the 
Revolution  in  1688,  when  the  fate  of  the  House  of  Stuart  was  sealed, 
and  the  good  William  and  Mary  came  to  the  throne — all  these  events  are 
but  a  small  part  of  the  shifting  scene  that  made  up  the  wonderful  drama 
of  Scottish  history  during  the  period  of  wdiich  we  speak,  and  contributed 
to  give  form  to  the  preaching  of  the  times.  It  is  computed  that  eighteen 
thousand  people  suffered  death,  or  the  utmost  hardships,  for  their  relig- 
ion, durmg  this  period,  hundreds  of  whom  were  ministers.  About  five 
thousand  were  murdered  in  cold  blood. 

There  is  one  event,  however,  which  must  not  be  passed  without 
special  mention ;  it  is  the  subscribing  of  the  Covexa:nt,  at  Edinburg, 
in  the  year  1638.  It  has  been  remarked  with  truth,  that  never,  except 
among  God's  peculiar  people,  the  Jews,  did  any  national  transaction 
equal,  in  moral  and  religious  sublimity,  that  which  was  displayed  by 
Scotland  on  the  great  day  of  her  national  Covenant. 

The  event  is  that  described  by  Mr.  Alton,  in  his  life  of  Henderson. 
"  The  Presbyterians  had  crowded  to  Edinburg  to  the  number  of  sixty 
thousand,  and  on  the  28th  of  February  a  fast  had  been  appointed  in  the 
Grey  Friars'  Church,  Long  before  the  appomted  hour,  the  venerable 
church  and  the  large  open  space  aroiuid  it  were  filled  with  Presbyte- 
rians from  every  quarter  of  Scotland.  At  two  o'clock  Rothes,  Loudon, 
Henderson,  Dickson,  and  Johnston  arrived  with  a  copy  of  the  Cove- 
nant ready  for  signature.  Henderson  constituted  the  meeting  by  prayer 
'verrie  powerfullie  and  pertinentlie'  to  the  purpose  on  hand.  The 
Covenant  was  read  by  Johnston,  '  out  of  a  foir  parchment  about  an 
elne  squair.'  When  the  reading  was  finished,  there  was  a  pause,  and 
silence  still  as  death.  Rothes  broke  it  by  requesting  that  if  any  of  them 
had  objections  to  offer  he  would  now  be  heard.  '  Few  come,  and  these 
few  proposed  but  few  doubts,  which  were  soon  resolved.'     The  vener- 


198  THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT. 

able  Earl  of  Sutherland  stepped  forward,  and  put  the  first  name  to  the 
memorable  document.  After  it  had  gone  the  round  of  the  whole 
church,  it  was  taken  out  to  be  signed  by  the  crowd  in  the  church-yard. 
Here  it  was  spread  before  them  Uke  another  roll  of  the  prophets,  upon 
a  flat  gravestone,*  to  be  read  and  subscribed  by  as  many  as  could  get 
near  it.  Many  in  addition  to  their  name  wrote  '  till  death,''  and  some 
even  opened  a  vem  and  subscribed  with  their  blood.  The  immense 
sheet,  in  a  short  time  became  so  much  crowded  with  names  on  both 
sides,  and  throughout  its  whole  space,  that  there  was  not  room  left  for  a 
single  additional  signature.  Zeal  in  the  cause  of  Christ,  and  courage 
for  the  Hberties  of  Scotland,  warmed  every  breast.  Joy  was  mingled 
with  the  expressions  of  some,  and  the  voice  of  shouting  arose  from  a 
few.  But  by  far  the  greater  number  were  deeply  impressed  with  very 
different  feelings.  Most  of  them  of  all  sorts  wept  bitterly  for  their  de- 
fection from  the  Lord.  And  in  testimony  of  his  sincerity,  every  one 
confirmed  his  subscription  by  a  soleann  oath.  With  groans,  and  tears 
streammg  down  their  faces,  they  all  lifted  up  their  right  hands  at  once. 
When  this  awful  a2:)peal  was  made  to  the  .Searcher  of  hearts  at  the  day 
of  judgment,  so  great  was  the  fear  of  again  breakmg  the  Covenant,  that 
thousands  of  arms  which  had  never  trembled,  even  when  dra^^^ng  the 
sword  on  the  eve  of  battle,  were  now  loosened  at  every  jomt.  After 
the  oath  had  been  admhiistered,  the  people  were  powerfully  enjoined  to 
begin  their  personal  reformation.  At  the  conclusion,  every  body  seemed 
to  feel  that  a  great  measure  of  the  Divine  presence  had  accompanied 
the  solemnities  of  the  day,  and  with  their  hearts  much  comforted  and 
strengthened  for  every  duty,  the  enormous  crowd  retired  about  nine  at 
night." 

Copies  of  this  Covenant  were  immediately  sent  to  all  parts  of  the 
kingdom,  and  before  the  end  of  April,  there  were  few  parishes  of  Scot- 
land where  it  had  not  been  signed  by  nearly  all  of  competent  age  and 
character ;  thus  making  it  truly  a  national  Covenant. 

As  already  intimated,  the  events  of  the  period  imder  review  did 
much  to  give  tone  and  character  to  the  Scottish  pulpit.  The  introduc- 
tion of  prelacy  brought  with  it  no  slight  modification  oi  doctrine ;  so 
that  instead  of  bearing  the  type  of  the  creed  of  the  great  Reformer, 
public  instruction  now  took  the  form,  to  a  great  extent,  of  Arminius. 
Especially  the  younger  portion  of  the  Scottish  prelates  emulated  Laud 
in  promulgating  these  sentiments,  and  denouncing  the  stifli"  tenets  of  the 
Presbyterians.  And  their  discourses  were  generally  the  driest  and 
most  pedantic  productions  imaginable.  The  papal  leaven  had,  also, 
been  wddely  diifused ;  and  what  was  still  more  deplorable,  if  possible, 
the  lives  of  many  of  the  prelatic  ministers  became  corrupt,  and  their 
gross  mimoralities  were  a  scandal  to  the  sacred  profession.  Never- 
theless, in  some  parts  of  the  kingdom,  and  especially  at  particular  inter- 

*  The  identical  grave-stono  is  still  shown  in  Grey  Friars'  Church,  Ediuburg. — Ed. 


THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT. 


199 


vals,  a  pure  Gospel  was  preached,  and  piety  flourished.  For  the  con- 
cealed papacy,  notwithstanding  it  came  with  royal  authority  and  power, 
was,  as  we  have  seen,  stoutly  resisted.  The  act  of  Jenny  Geddes,  in 
hurling  at  the  head  of  the  surpliced  dean  in  St.  Giles,  the  stool  on 
which  she  had  been  sitting  near  by,  when  he  began  to  read  the  Liturgy, 
■with  the  exclamation,  "  Villain !  dost  thou  say  mass  at  my  lug  ?"  was 
indicative  of  the  stufl'  of  which  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  Scottish  peo- 
ple were  made. 

Indeed  the  very  persecutions  to  wliich  the  Presbyterians  were  sub- 
jected, wrought  into  their  preaching  some  of  the  very  best  elements. 
They  conspii'ed  to  render  them  holy  men,  and  enkindle  their  zeal  for 
God  and  the  truth.  Add  to  this  that  they  often  preached  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  a  sudden  surprise  by  their  enemies,  or  of  a  legal  arrest,  and 
perhaps  a  summary  conviction  and  death,  and  we  can  readily  imagine 
the  character  of  their  preaching.  Earnestness  and  tender  concern  for 
their  flocks  were  the  prevailing  features.  They  were  times  that  tried 
men's  souls.  The  preachers  spoke  with  bold  and  fervid  eloquence,  as 
standing  upon  the  confines  of  the  other  world,  and  perhaps  for  the  last 
time  addressing  their  feUow-mortals,  whose  blood,  with  their's,  might 
soon  mmgle  on  the  trodden  heath.  The  places,  too,  often  inspired  the  sub- 
limest  sentiments.  Driven  out  from  their  sanctuaries,  the  broad  fields, 
arched  by  the  canopy  of  heaven,  were  the  temples  of  their  devotions. 
There,  in  sight  of  upland  moors,  and  frownmg  crags,  and  majestic  mount- 
ains, and  the  clear  or  threatening  skies,  these  servants  of  the  Most 
High  declared  His  messages,  as  in  His  very  sight. 

We  are  not  called  upon  to  endorse  every  tenet  and  every  act  of 
the  famous  old  Covenanters.  They  particularly  erred  in  confovmding 
things  civil  and  things  sacred.  But  they  were  men  of  conscience,  men 
of  prayer,  men  of  deep  piety,  men  of  courage  and  an  unfaltering  faith ; 
and  fearlessly,  earnestly,  affectionately,  fiiithfuUy  did  they  preach  the 
word.  All  honor  to  the  self-sacrificing  spirit,  the  zeal,  the  valor,  the 
spu'itual  championship  of  men  who  could  say  with  Henderson,  "  We 
can  die,  but  we  can  not  forswear  ourselves,  and  be  false  traitors  to 
Christ !" 

The  way  in  which  the  Covenanters  conducted  their  worship,  when  it 
was  unmolested  in  their  sanctuaries,  must  be  sketched,  especially  as  it 
obtained  from  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  and,  with  some  slight  modi- 
fication, has  continued  in  the  Scottish  Presbyterian  churches.  Immedi- 
ately on  entering  the  pulpit,  the  minister  kneeled  down  and  began  with 
prayer,  the  people  generally  kneeling  also.  It  was  customary,  at  some 
part  of  the  service,  to  repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  the  Doxology ;  but 
in  other  respects  the  worship  was  unfettered  by  forms,  the  ofiiciating 
minister  guiding  the  devotions  of  his  flock,  as  Justin  Martyi-  describes 
those  of  the  primitive  Christians,  "  according  to  his  ability,  without  a 
prompter."    Prayer  bemg  ended,  the  congregation  joined  in  singing  a 


200  THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT. 

portion  of  the  Psalms — a  part  of  the  service  in  which  they  took  great 
deUght,  and  in  which  they  were  so  well  instructed  that  many  of  them 
could  sing  without  the  aid  of  a  Psalm-book.  The  Psalm  being  sung, 
the  minister  oiFered  up  another  short  prayer,  and  then  followed  the  ser- 
mon, which,  having  been  succeeded  by  prayer  and  praise,  the  congrega- 
tion were  dismissed  with  the  ApostoUc  blessing.* 

We  come,  now,  to  the  second  period  of  the  history  of  the  Scottish  pul- 
pit; namely,  that  which  falls  between  the  Revolution  in  1688  and  the 
great  disruption  in  1 843.  Persecution  had  been  brought  to  an  end  by  the 
accession  of  William  and  Mary.  The  Act  of  Security,  in  1*707,  effectually 
precluded  direct  interference  on  the  part  of  the  British  Parliament  with 
the  Scottish  Churches.  But  though  deliyered  from  outward  molestation, 
the  churches  were  destined  to  be  subjected  to  an  ordeal  still  more  severe. 
Their  appointed  leaders  were  not  adequate  to  the  trial.  The  j^ulpit  was 
sorely  damaged.  For  the  next  century  it  displays  more  of  learnmg  and 
culture,  but  less  of  soundness  and  unanimity,  in  its  instructions.  It  was 
the  age  of  defections  and  internal  dissensions.  Faithful  and  earnest 
preachers  there  were  ;  and  the  number  of  such  was  greatly  augmented 
by  the  glorious  revivals  with  which  the  churches  were  blessed,  about 
the  middle  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the  eighteenth  centmy.  But  it 
would  seem  these  refreshings  were  vouchsafed  that,  by  sipping  of  the 
brook  by  the  way,  the  faithful  might  not  become  quite  faint-heai-ted  and 
exhausted  ;  just  as  God  has  always  been  wont  to  revive  anew  the  sacred 
life  among  His  people  before  a  season  of  searching  trial.  These  and  a 
few  other  bright  spots  in  the  history  of  the  times,  do  but  the  more  clearly 
reveal  the  dark  backgroimd  upon  which  they  appear.  The  high-souled, 
martyr  spirit  of  the  previous  centuries  rapidly  declined.  The  preaching, 
as  a  whole,  lacked  the  strength  and  vigor  of  former  days.  StiU  more 
did  it  lack  the  clear  and  forcible  enunciation  of  those  sublime  doctrines 
which  were  hurled,  with  such  effect,  by  the  Reformers  and  Covenanters 
against  the  hoary  battlements  of  supersition  and  iniquity. 

The  causes  which  led  to  this  decline  in  the  power  of  the  Scottish  pulpit 
have  been,  in  part,  already  intimated.  The  grand  germinal  source  was 
the  union  of  the  Church  with  the  State  ;  the  injurious  results  of  which 
early  began  to  be  developed.  To  mention  nothmg  else,  this  unnatural  al- 
liance superinduced,  and  finally  grafted  upon,  the  clerical  office,  attention 
to  worldly  pursuits.  The  minister  in  each  parish  came  to  be  the  organ  of 
communication  between  his  people  and  the  government — and  the  conse- 
quent exactions  and  services  of  a  secular  nature  impinged  upon  the  study, 
and  withdrewthe  pastor  from  prayer  and  the  ministry  of  the  word.f  More- 
over the  soft  and  effeminate  style  of  preaching,  so  common,  at  the  time, 
in  Eno-land,  began  to  be  adopted  by  the  Scottish  divines  ;  an  influence 
greatly  extended  by  the  large  number  of  those  who,  cither  openly,  or  at 

*  M'Crie's  History  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  p.  248. 

\  See  Chalmers'  Sermon  on  The  Christian  Ministry  Secularized. 


THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT.  201 

heart,  favored  the  views  of  the  English  Church.  The  unhappy  ecclesias- 
tical controversies  of  the  tune  affected  injuriously  the  pulpit.  The  cele- 
brated "  Marrov/  Controversy"  arose  upon  the  republication  of  Edward 
Fisher's  book,  by  James  Hog,  minister  of  Carnock,  in  1714,  iinder  the 
title  of  "  Marrow  of  Modern  Divinity ;"  the  main  point  of  dispute  being 
as  to  whether  the  views  inculcated  were  a  fair  exposition  of  the  doctrines 
of  grace,  or  whether,  on  the  other  hand,  they  tended  to  relax  the  obli- 
gations to  holiness,  and  cherish  a  spirit  of  Antinomianism.  Controversies 
arose,  and  at  length  divisions,  as  to  the  lawfulness  or  unlawfulness  of  the 
Burgher's  oath,  when  taken  by  a  Dissenter.  Other  troubles  originated 
in  attemjots  to  disci2)line  a  class  of  Dissenters,  known  as  Society-men,  or 
Cam.ero7iians,  who  joined  issue  with  the  Church,  mainly  fi-om  its  connec- 
tion with  the  State ;  and  others  still  about  the  matter  oi patronage.  The 
preaching  of  Arminian  and  Pelagian  doctrines  by  some  of  the  ministers 
became  also  a  ground  of  division,  as  to  sentiment  and  legitimate  action. 
Differences  of  opinion,  having  their  origin  m  other  sources,  need  not  be 
instanced.  It  can  not  be  questioned  that  these  imfortunate  controver- 
sies, though  often  conducted  in  a  Christian  spirit,  greatly  weakened  the 
power  of  the  pulpit.  It  became  too  often,  Uke  the  platform  of  the  As- 
semblies, the  arena  ot  debate  ;  which  diverted  its  influence,  and  relaxed 
its  energies  for  good. 

The  prevalence  of  "  Moderatism"  also  contributed  directly  and 
powerfully  to  the  decline  of  pulj^it  power.  This  system  had  its  origin 
in  the  combination  which  early  took  place,  between  the  indulged  minis- 
ters and  the  prelatic  incumbents,  who  were  introduced  into  the  Church  by 
the  "  Comprehension  Scheme"  of  King  William.  The  perfidious  act  of 
1714,  reimposing  patronage,  gave  it  growth  and  strength.  Tliis  system 
early  showed  itself  favorable  to  laxity  of  discipline  and  doctrine.  Heresy 
excited  from  it  Httle  attention  ;  the  doctrines  of  grace,  as  held  after  the 
pattern  of  the  Reformers,  were  condemned  ;  and,  at  length,  it  boldly  de- 
clared its  principles  to  be  worldly,  and  sought  even  to  abohsh  the  sub- 
scription to  the  Confession  of  Faith  ;  besides  opposing  the  extension  of 
the  Gospel  at  home,  and  prohibiting  efforts  to  send  it  abroad.  This  sys- 
tem, at  times,  was  wholly  in  the  ascendency,  and  most  dreary  was  its 
reign.  Vital  godUness  declined  ;  the  remonstrances  of  faithful  ministers 
were  repressed,  and  themselves  were,  almost  of  necessity,  driven  out  of 
the  Church,  while  those  who  were  heterodox  and  immoral  were  pro- 
tected.* As  a  consequence,  the  pulpit  became  almost  powerless.  The 
preaching  was  legal  and  spiritless.  Sermons  became  little  else  than  care- 
fully written  essays,  in  exposition  and  support  of  an  improved  system  of 
morality,  styled  the  religion  of  the  Gosj^el. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things,  generally,  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  The  brilhant  exceptions  in  the  persons  of  such  men  as  Erskine, 
Hunter,  Davidson,  Balfour,  Freebairn,  Johnstone,  Nisbet  and  a  few 
*  See  Hetherington's  History  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  vol.  ii.  pp.  362-3. 


2G2  THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT. 

others,  were  but  "  the  scattered  stars  that  faintly  break  the  gloom  of  a 
chill  and  misty  night."  In  1798,  the  eccentric,  but  earnest  and  godly 
Rowland  Hill,  visited  Scotland,  and  upon  his  return  pubhshed  an 
extended  statement,  perhaps  exaggerated,  if  not  eiToneous  in  some  few 
particulars,  concerning  the  state  of  religion  and  the  kind  of  preaching  in 
Scotland,  In  this  statement  he  says,  "  The  dispensation  of  mercy  to 
fallen  man  by  Jesus  Christ  is  not  the  subject  preached  by  the  majority  ; 
but  with  some,  a  mangled  Gospel,  law  and  Gospel  spliced  together ; 
with  others,  a  mere  hungry  system  of  bare-weight  morality ;  and  with 
a  third,  what  is  still  worse,  a  deUberate  attack  on  all  the  truths  they 
have  engaged  to  uphold."  "  The  cause  of  morality  declines  with  the 
cause  of  the  Gospel ;  and  I  fear  the  Scots,  by  far  the  best  educated  and 
best  behaved  peojile  in  the  British  domuiions,  will  soon  be  no  better  than 
their  neighbors." 

About  the  opeumg  of  the  nineteenth  century  there  was  a  decided 
decline  of  "  Moderatism,"  which,  with  the  great  religious  awakenings 
under  Whitefield  and  others,  that  then  occurred,  contributed  much  to 
the  elevation  and  strength  of  the  pulpit.  The  earnest  efibrts  of  Andrew 
Thompson  and  Thomas  Chalmers,  and  a  few  others,  with  the  missionary 
movements  of  Dr.  Duff,  and  the  publication,  by  Dr.  M'Crie,  of  the  "  Life 
of  John  Knox,"  and  finally  the  revivals  of  the  churches  in  the  years  of 
1839  and  1840,  exerted  a  decided  influence  in  the  same  direction. 

One  event,  however,  was  yet  necessary  to  the  highest  power  of  the 
Scottish  puljHt.  It  is  that  which  opens  the  third  great  era  in  its  history. 
We  refer,  of  course,  to  the  disruption  in  the  national  body,  and  the 
formation  of  the  "  Free  Church  of  Scotland."  Occasional  secessions, 
from  a  variety  of  causes,  had  already  taken  place.  Indeed  the  re- 
establishment  of  the  Presbyterian  form  of  Church  government  m  1690, 
m  several  of  its  features,  was  condemned  by  some  of  the  leading  spirits 
of  the  day.*  But  it  was  not  until  about  the  year  1830  that  the  lawful- 
ness of  a  civil  establishment  of  religion,  m  the  form  of  a  national  Church, 
assumed  the  grave  aspect  of  public  controversy.  From  that  time  the 
advocates  of  the  voluntary  princij)le  greatly  increased  in  number  and  in- 
fluence. Matters  were  fast  approaching  a  crisis.  The  cIa  il  and  the  ec- 
clesiastical courts  were  perpetually  coming  into  collision.  The  struggles 
on  the  part  of  the  Church  to  maintain  her  dignity  and  spirituality,  and 
the  supremacy  of  her  glorious  Head,  were  beheved  by  many  to  be  per- 
fectly futile  and  hopeless.  They  must  come  out  from  the  civil  organizar 
tions  and  be  wholly  separate. 

Preparations  for  the  coming  disruption  had  already  been  made.  The 
time  for  action  had  now  come.  It  was  a  lovely  May-day  (the  18th)  of 
that  bright  year  in  the  history  of  the  Scottish  churches  and  the  Scottish 
pulpit. 

The  members  of  the  General  Assembly,  and  an  anxious  throng  ot 
*  See  M'Kerrow's  History  of  the  Secession  Church,  p.  2,  etc. 


THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT.  203 

sjiectators,  with  the  officials  of  royalty  and  rank,  had  crowded  the 
Church  of  St.  Andrew's,  in  Edinburg,  when  the  moderator,  after  opening 
the  meeting  with  solemn  prayer,  broke  the  dead  silence  that  ensued,  by  de- 
claring that  owing  to  certain  proceedings  by  her  majesty's  government, 
the  ecclesiastical  court  could  not  be  constituted,  without  a  violation  of  the 
terms  of  union  between  the  Church  and  State ;  and  solemnly  protested 
against  proceeding  further.  Then  reading  a  paper  containing  a  formal 
statement  of  the  reasons  for  complaint  and  secession,  and  laying  it  upon 
the  table  before  the  clerk,  with  a  bow  to  the  throne  where  sat  the  com- 
missioner, he  withdrew,  closely  followed  by  the  noble  band,  who  slowly 
and  calmly  retked  to  the  spacious  Tanfield  Hall,  the  appointed  placfe  of 
meeting,  leaving  the  opposite  party  in  the  confusion  of  amazement  and 
utter  dismay.  Dr.  Chalmers  was  called  to  the  chair  by  acclamation,  a 
Psalm  was  sung,  a  prayer  was  offered,  and  the  First  General  Assembly  of 
the  Free  Church  of  Scotland,  was  formally  organized.*  The  number  of 
signatures  of  adhering  ministers  and  elders,  which  were  taken  on  that 
day,  was  three  hundred  and  eighty-six ;  additional  names,  subsequently 
taken,  raised  it  to  four  hundred  and  seventy-four. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  conceive  of  any  movement  that  should  have 
more  directly  and  powerfully  operated  upon  the  Scottish  pulpit,  than  that 
now  desci-ibed.  Not  only  the  Free  Church  clergy,  but  those  from  whom 
they  withdrew,  and  those  of  every  branch  of  the  Christian  community, 
felt  the  impulse  of  a  new  life,  and  gave  themselves  with  more  earnest- 
ness, and  greater  success,  to  the  upbuilding  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ. 

The  present  ministerial  force  of  Scotland  (exclusive,  of  course,  of  the 
one  hundred  and  twenty-five  Roman  Catholic  clergy)  is  made  up  of  not 
far  from  two  thousand  eight  hundred  preachers.  Without  claiming  en- 
tire accuracy,  the  folio  whig  statement  will  aiford  an  idea  of  their  relative 
numbers,  denominationally  considered :  There  are  about  eleven  hun- 
dred in  the  established  or  National  Church;  seven  himdred  and  fifty  in 
the  Free  Church ;  five  hundred  in  the  United  or  Associate  Presbyterian 
Church  (made  up  of  different  secession  bodies) ;  one  hundred  and  thirty 
in  the  Episcopal ;  one  hundred  in  the  Baptist ;  about  the  same  number  m 
the  Congregational,  and  thirty  in  the  Methodist  Churches,  besides,  say 
fifty  or  one  hundred  in  other  smaller  bodies.  Episcopacy  has  never 
flourished  in  Scotland.  Indeed  the  same  may  be  said  of  each  of  the 
several  denominations,  except  the  Presbyterian.  The  doctrine  of  the 
Scottish  pulpit  is,  therefore,  mainly  Calvinistic,  as  it  is  usually  called. 
On  this  point  there  is  a  singular  unanimity.  The  greatest  efficiency  does 
not  seem  to  lie  in  the  direction  of  numbers  and  state  patronage.  The 
estabhshment  was  shorn  of  its  strength,  to  a  great  extent,  at  the  disrup- 
tion ;  and  being  obhged  to  fill  its  pulpits  as  best  it  could,  it  has  not,  smce 
that  event,  possessed  the  power  of  other  days.     In  intellectual  character 

*  A  minute  and  graphic  account  of  this  great  movement  may  be  found  in  the  last 
volume  ofHetherington's  History  of  the  Church  of  Scotland. 


204  THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT. 

and  standing,  the  Free  Church  ministers  evidently  excel  those  of  any- 
other  body.  Perhaps,  as  a  class,  they  are  not  inferior  in  sterling  ability, 
to  those  of  any  other  denomination  in  the  world. 

In  orator^/,  or  j^ulpit  embellishments  of  any  kind,  the  Scottish  clergy 
certainly  do  not  excel.  Judging  by  their  transatlantic  productions, 
there  is  little  or  no  efibrt  at  fine  writuig  ;  and,  if  what  appear  to  be  reliable 
authorities  are  credited,  there  is  even  less  attention  to  pulpit  elocution. 

In  this  respect  they  fall  behind  their  English  neighbors.  It  is  a  fre- 
quent remark  in  the  mother-coimtry,  "  If  one  wants  to  know  vihat  to  say, 
he  must  go  to  Scotland ;  if  he  desires  to  know  how  to  say  it,  he  must  go 
to  England."  To  use  the  words  of  one  of  her  own  sons,  "  There  is  not 
a  nation  in  Europe  where  pubhc  men  are  better  thinkers  and  worse 
speakers  than  the  Scottish  nation.  This  little  peninsula  has  jjroduced 
more  authors  that  are  read  and  studied,  more  text-books  that  are  intro- 
duced into  foreign  colleges  and  foreign  libraries,  and  more  great  men  in 
proportion  to  its  territorial  extent,  and  the  number  of  its  population,  than 
any  other  country.  Yet  Scotland,  though  a  land  of  poets,  and  metaphy- 
sicians, and  historians,  and  theologians,  and  martyrs,  is  not  a  land  of 
orators.  Though  the  national  education  has  elevated  the  Scottish  mind, 
though  the  established  religion  of  the  country  has  infused  a  thorough 
moral  element  into  the  Scottish  character,  so  that  some  of  the  best  Brit- 
ish statesmen,  not  to  speak  of  the  ministers  at  foreign  courts,  are  Scottish, 
still  Scotland  has  not  furnished  the  bench,  the  bar,  nor  the  pulpit,  vnth^/irst 
rate  orators.  Tliis  is  one  of  the  first  things  that  strikes  a  foreigner  on  en- 
tering Scotland.  There  is  an  entire  want  of  all  the  graces,  with  an  ample 
supply  of  all  the  gifts  of  pulpit  oratory.  As  a  general  thing  the  preach- 
ers of  this  country  are  more  taken  u^)  with  the  ichat  than  with  the  hotv. 
There  is  a  mascuUne  power  about  the  Scottish  pulpit  peculiar  to  itself. 
In  most  of  their  churches  the  thought  is  heavy  and  massive.  The  truth 
is  sought  after  with  great  avidity,  and  wrapped  up  in  every  discourse,  if 
not  A\dth  tinseled  ornament,  certainly  with  golden  sinew.  It  seems  some- 
what surprising,  but  so  it  is,  that  John  Knox  has  left  the  impress  of  Ms 
noble  nature,  both  external  and  internal,  on  the  Scottish  character.  The 
pulpit  of  that  country  is  destined  to  echo  with  the  rude  tones  of  the  great 
Reformer's  voice,  and  the  people  to  see  the  uncouth,  but  vigorous  gest- 
ures of  the  man,  where,  animated  and  warmed  up  to  the  welding-point, 
he  produced  and  stereotyped  every  succeeding  generation  of  Scottish 
preachers."* 

The  method  of  sermonizing  in  the  Scottish  pulpit  is  quite  difierent 
from  that  of  former  day-s.  The  old  method  was  at  once  expository,  doc- 
trinal, methodical,  and  impassioned.  He  who  reads  the  sermons  of  Bos- 
ton and  the  Erskines,  for  example,  will  find  the  several  formal  divisions, 
then  numerous  sub-divisions,  and  then  almost  any  number  of  uses,  infer- 
ences, and  practical  reflections ;  and  even  then  several  sermons  on  the 
*  Rev.  R.  Irvine,  now  of  Hamilton,  Canada  "West. 


THE    SCOTTISH    PULPIT.  205 

same  text.  He  will  also  find  soiind  argument,  and,  particularly  in  sacra- 
mental sermons,  much  of  unction  and  pathos,  and  impassioned  appeal. 
Widely  different  is  the  present  method.  The  expository  form,  which, 
for  three  centuries  has  done  so  much  to  indoctrinate  and  mold  the  Scot- 
tish nation,  is  still  maintained  to  a  great  extent ;  but  the  modern  dis- 
courses are  not  generally  distributed  into  heads,  and  formally  announced 
at  the  beginning.  Oftentunes  no  divisions  are  marked  in  the  whole  ser- 
mon, and  httle  or  no  strength  is  bestowed  m  the  application — an  obvious 
fault  in  most  of  the  Scottish  sermons  with  which  we  have  met.  Of  late, 
the  "  blood  earnestness"  of  Chalmers,  as  Dr.  John  M.  Mason  styled 
it,  upon  hearing  him,  has  contributed  to  infuse  more  of  that  warmth  and 
passion  mto  the  instruction  of  the  pul^^it  which  it  formerly  possessed. 

We  close  this  sketch  mth  the  remark  that  if  one  seeks  for  proof  of 
the  power  of  the  pulpit,  let  him  examine  the  history  of  the  land  of  John 
Knox.  Nowhere  else  has  the  relation  of  the  pulpit  to  the  existing  form 
of  civilization  been  so  manifest.  Nowhere  else  have  the  collected  ener- 
gies of  the  kingdom  of  Christ  been  so  powerfully  brought  to  bear,  by 
means  of  the  pulpit,  to  resist  the  onset  of  error,  and  to  fuse  and  mold  the 
masses  of  society.  The  ruUng  element  of  civilization,  from  the  beginning 
of  the  Reformation  to  the  present  time,  (with  some  temporary  interrup- 
tions), has  been  the  religious  element,  rendered  effective  by  preaching. 
And  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  future  of  the  Scottish  pulpit  will 
not  be  unworthy  of  the  past.  Coming  events  may  again  test  its  strength. 
The  present  aggressions  of  the  Roman  pontiff  in  England,  may,  by  j^os- 
sibUity,  compass  the  reacquisition  of  that  bright  jewel,  which  the  hand 
of  the  fearless  Knox  plucked  from  his  tiara.  If  so,  it  may  appear,  in 
the  eloquent  language  of  another,  why  God,  through  these  troubled 
centuries,  has  been  schooling  a  hardy,  manly  race  among  the  hills  and 
floods  of  Scotland :  and,  as  the  spirit  of  Bannockburn  and  Drumclog 
flames  out  mto  a  loftier  blaze  of  heroism  than  that  which  api^alled  the 
usurping  Edward,  or  the  bloody  Claverhouse,  the  blue  banner  of  the 
Crown  and  the  Covenant  will  be  seen  floating  over  the  hottest  and  dead- 
liest field  of  that  terrible  conflict. 


DISCOURSE     FIFTY. SIXTH. 

JOHN     KNOX. 

The  great  Reformer  was  born  in  Haddington,  not  far  from  Edinburg, 
of  poor  but  honest  parents,  in  the  year  1505.  Destined  for  the  Chm*ch, 
he  received  a  thorough  collegiate  education,  and  became  an  honest  friar  ; 
but  silently  and  unostentatiously  he  early  adopted  the  principles  of  the 
Protestant  Reformation.  After  this  he  spent  a  considerable  time  in 
teaching  and  pursuing  his  studies,  when  he  was  called,  unexpectedly,  to 
the  preaching  of  the  Word  at  St.  Andrews.  Here  he  began  boldly  to 
attack  "  papal  idolatry,"  upon  which  he  was  seized  by  the  authorities  and 
sent  a  j)risoner  to  France,  in  1547,  where  he  worked  in  the  galleys  as  a 
slave.  After  two  years  he  was  set  at  liberty,  and  refusing  a  bishopric  in 
England,  retired  to  the  Contment  at  the  accession  of  Mary,  residing 
chiefly  at  Geneva  and  Frankfort,  but  returned  to  Scotland  in  1555,  where 
he  labored  with  indomitable  perseverance  and  great  success.  A  second 
time  he  went  to  Geneva,  where  he  published  his  "First  Blast  of  the 
Trumpet  against  the  Regiment  (government)  of  Women,"  directed  prin- 
cipally agamst  Mary  of  England,  and  Mary  of  Guise  regent  of  Scotland, 
two  miserable  despots.  He  returned  to  Scotland  in  1559,  and,  after  see- 
ing Protestantism  triumph  in  his  beloved  country,  died,  1572,  poor  in 
this  world's  goods,  but  rich  in  the  hope  of  a  blessed  immortality. 

As  a  preacher,  Knox  possessed  most  astonishing  abilities.  With  the 
ii-resistible  power  of  truth  and  of  heaven,  he  took  possession  of  the  under- 
standing, and  captivated  the  aifections.  Undismayed  by  opposition,  and 
unbribed  by  profiered  favors,  he  overlooked  all  distinctions  between 
high  and  low,  and  ahke  to  the  sovereign  on  the  throne,  and  the  poor- 
est menial,  preached  repentance,  and  the  need  of  a  new  heart.  The  mul- 
titude, not  only,  but  the  educated  few  were  animated  and  influenced,  if 
not  convinced  and  convicted,  by  his  rough  but  overwhelming  eloquence. 

There  are  numerous  treatises,  admonitions,  exhortations,  and  letters 
extant  of  the  Reformer's  writings ;  but  only  one  sermon,  put  forth  by 
himself  (that  which  is  here  given),  though  there  are  two  besides  which 
were  issued  after  his  death.  Knox  speaks  of  this  in  the  preface,  as  the 
first  thing  of  the  kind  he  ever  set  forth.  It  was  preached  in  the  public 
audience  of  the  church  in  Edinburg,  the  19th  of  August,  1565.     He  was 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OP    KINGLY    POWER.    207 

arrested  for  preaching  it,  called  before  the  council,  and  finally  forbidden 
to  preach  in  Edinburg  so  long  as  the  king  and  queen  were  in  town.  For 
this  reason  he  wrote  out  the  sermon  after  having  preached  it,  to  the  end, 
as  he  says,  that  the  enemies  of  God's  truth  might  either  note  unto  him 
wherein  he  had  offended,  or  at  least  cease  to  condemn  him,  before  con- 
vincing him  by  God's  Word.  It  would  be  impossible  for  most  readers 
to  understand  the  preacher  if  left  in  the  atrocious  spelling  and  imcouth 
Scotch  dialect  of  his  time.  The  translation  here  adopted  is  that  of  the 
London  Religious  Tract  Society,  It  will  be  seen  that  he  "  who  never 
feared  the  face  of  man"  could  preach  with  somewhat  of  elegance  as  well 
as  such  prodigious  power.     The  title  is  our  own. 


THE  SOURCE  AND  BOUNDS  OF  KINGLY  POWER. 

"  0  Lord  our  God,  other  lords  besides  Thee  have  had  dominion  over  us ;  but  by  Thee 
only  will  we  make  mention  of  Thy  name.  They  arc  dead,  they  shall  not  live ;  they  are 
deceased,  they  shall  not  rise :  therefore  hast  Thou  visited  and  destroyed  them,  and  made 
all  their  memory  to  perish.  Thou  hast  increased  the  nation,  0  Lord,  Thou  hast  increased 
the  nation,  Thou  art  glorified ;  Thou  hast  removed  it  far  unto  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
Lord,  in  trouble  have  they  visited  Thee,  they  poured  out  a  prayer  when  Thy  chastening 
was  upon  them,"  etc. — Isaiah,  xxvi.  13-1,6,  etc. 

As  the  skillful  mariner  (being  master),  having  his  ship  tossed 
with  a  vehement  tempest,  and  contrary  winds,  is  compelled  oft  to 
traverse,  lest  that,  either  by  too  much  resisting  to  the  violence  of 
the  waves,  his  vessel  might  be  overwhelmed ;  or  by  too  much  lib- 
erty granted,  might  be  carried  whither  the  fury  of  the  tempest 
would,  so  that  his  ship  should  be  driven  upon  the  shore,  and  make 
shipwreck ;  even  so  doth  our  prophet  Isaiah  in  this  text,  which  now 
you  have  heard  read.  For  he,  foreseeing  the  great  desolation  that 
was  decreed  in  the  council  of  the  Eternal,  against  Jerusalem  and 
Judah,  namely,  that  the  whole  people  that  bare  the  name  of  God 
should  be  dispersed ;  that  the  holy  city  should  be  destroyed ;  the 
temple  wherein  was  the  ark  of  the  covenant,  and  where  God  had 
promised  to  give  His  own  presence,  should  be  burned  with  fire ;  and 
the  king  taken,  his  sons  in  his  own  presence  murdered,  his  own  eyes 
immediately  after  be  put  out ;  the  nobility,  some  cruelly  murdered, 
some  shamefully  led  away  captives ;  and  finally  the  whole  seed  of 
Abraham  rased,  as  it  were,  from  the  face  of  the  earth — the 
prophet,  I  say,  fearing  these  horrible  calamities,  doth,  as  it  were, 
sometimes  suffer  himself,  and  the  people  committed  to  his  charge, 


208  JOHN   KNOX. 

to  be  carried  away  with  the  violence  of  the  tempest,  without  further 
resistance  than  by  pouring  forth  his  and  their  dolorous  complaints 
before  the  majesty  of  God,  as  in  the  thirteenth,  seventeenth,  and 
eighteenth  verses  of  this  present  text  we  may  read.  At  other  times 
he  valiantly  resists  the  desperate  tempest,  and  pronounces  the  fear- 
ful destruction  of  all  such  as  trouble  the  Church  of  God ;  which  he 
pronounces  that  God  will  multiply,  even  when  it  appears  utterly  to 
be  exterminated.  [^But  because  there  is  no  final  rest  to  the  whole 
body  till  the  Head  return  to  judgment,  lie  exhorts  the  afilicted  to 
patience,  and  promises  a  visitation  whereby  the  wickedness  of  the 
wicked  shall  be  disclosed,  and  finally  recompensed  in  their  own 
bosoms. 

These  are  the  chief  points  of  which,  by  the  grace  of  God,  we 
intend  more  largely  at  this  present  to  speak : 

First^  The  prophet  saith,  "  0  Lord  our  God,  other  lords  besides 
Thee  have  ruled  us." 

This,  no  doubt,  is  the  beginning  of  the  dolorous  complaint,  in 
which  he  complains  of  the  unjust  tyranny  that  the  poor  afflicted 
Israelites  sustained  during  the  time  of  their  captivity.  *  True  it  is 
that  the  prophet  was  gathered  to  his  fathers  in  peace,  before  this 
came  upon  the  people :  for  a  hundred  years  after  his  decease  the 
people  were  not  led  away  captive ;  yet  he,  foreseeing  the  assurance 
of  the  calamity,  did  beforehand  indite  and  dictate  unto  them  the 
complaint,  which  afterward  they  should  make.  But  at  the  first 
sight  it  appears  that  the  complaint  has  but  small  weight ;  for  what 
new  thing  was  it  that  other  lords  than  God  in  His  own  person  ruled 
them,  seeing  that  such  had  been  their  government  from  the  begin- 
ning? For  who  knows  not  that  Moses,  Aaron,  and  Joshua,  the 
judges,  Samuel,  David,  and  other  godly  rulers,  were  men,  and  not 
God ;  and  so  other  lords  than  God  ruled  them  in  their  greatest  pros- 
perity ? 

For  the  better  understanding  of  this  complaint,  and  of  the  mind 
of  the  prophet,  we  must,  first,  observe  from  whence  all  authority 
flows;  and  secondly,  to  what  end  powers  are  appointed  by  God: 
which  two  points  being  discussed,  we  shall  better  understand  what 
lords  and  what  authority  rule  beside  God,  and  who  they  are  in  whom 
God  and  His  merciful  presence  rules. 

The  first  is  resolved  to  us  by  the  words  of  the  Apostle,  saying, 
"There  is  no  power  but  of  God."  David  brings  in  the  eternal  God 
speaking  to  judges  and  rulers,  saying,  "  I  have  said,  ye  are  gods, 
and  sons  of  the  Most  High."  And  Solomon,  in  the  person  of  God, 
afl&rmeth  the  same,  saying,  "  By  Me  kings  reign,  and  princes  discern 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OF    KINGLY    POWER.     209 

the  thingvS  tliat  are  just."  From  wLicli  place  it  is  evident  that  it  is 
neither  birth,  influence  of  stars,  election  of  people,  force  of  arms, 
nor,  finally,  whatsoever  can  be  comprehended  under  the  power  of 
nature,  that  makes  the  distinction  betwixt  the  superior  power  and 
the  inferior,  or  that  establishes  the  royal  throne  of  kings ;  but  it  is 
the  onlv  and  perfect  ordinance  of  God,  who  willeth  His  terror, 
power,  and  majesty,  partly  to  shine  in  the  thrones  of  kings,  and  in 
the  faces  of  judges,  and  that  for  the  profit  and  comfort  of  man.  So 
that  whosoever  would  study  to  deface  the  order  of  government  that 
God  has  established,  and  allowed  by  His  holy  word,  and  bring  in 
such  a  confusion  that  no  difference  should  be  betwixt  the  upper 
powers  and  the  subjects,  does  nothing  but  avert  and  turn  upside 
down  the  very  throne  of  God,  w^hich  He  wills  to  be  fixed  here  upon 
earth ;  as  in  the  end  and  cause  of  this  ordinance  more  plainly  shall 
appear  :  which  is  the  second  point  we  have  to  observe,  for  the  better 
understanding  of  the  prophet's  words  and  mind. 

The  end  and  cause  then,  why  God  imprints  in  the  weak  and 
feeble  flesh  of  man  this  image  of  His  own  power  and  majesty,  is  not, 
to  puff  up  flesh  in  opinion  of  itself;  neither  yet  that  the  heart  of 
him  that  is  exalted  above  others  should  be  lifted  up  by  presump- 
tion and  pride,  and  so  despise  others  ;  but  that  he  should  consider 
he  is  appointed  lieutenant  to  One,  whose  eyes  continually  watch, 
upon  him,  to  see  and  examine  how  he  behaves  himself  in  his  ofiice>. 
St.  Paul,  in  few  words,  declares  the  end  wherefore  the  sword  is  com- 
mitted to  the  powers,  saying,  "  It  is  to  the  punishment  of  the  wicked 
doers,  and  unto  the  praise  of  such  as  do  well." 

Of  which  words  it  is  evident  that  the  sword  of  God  is  not  com- 
mitted to  the  hand  of  man  to  use  as  it  pleases  him,  but  only  to  pun- 
ish vice  and  maintain  virtue,  that  men  may  live  in  such  society  as 
is  acceptable  before  God.  And  this  is  the  true  and  only  cause  why 
God  has  appointed  powers  in  this  earth. 

For  such  is  the  furious  rage  of  man's  corrupt  nature  that,  unless 
severe  punishment  were  appointed  and  put  in  execution  upon  male- 
factors, better  it  were  that  man  should  live  among  brutes  and  wild 
beasts  than  among  men.  But  at  this  present  I  dare  not  enter  into 
the  descriptions  of  this  common-place  ;  for  so  should  I  not  satisfy 
the  text,  which  by  God's  grace  I  purpose  to  explain.  This  only  by 
the  way — I  would  that  such  as  are  placed  in  authority  should  con- 
sider whether  they  reign  and  rule  by  God,  so  that  God  rules  them ; 
or  if  they  rule  without,  besides,  and  against  God,  of  whom  our- 
prophet  here  complains. 

"Jf  any  desire  to  take  trial  of  this  point,  it  is.  not  hard ;  for  Moses,, 

U 


210  JOHN    KNOX. 

in  the  election  of  judges,  and  of  a  king,  describes  not  only  what 
persons  shall  be  chosen  to  that  honor,  but  also  gives  to  him  that  is 
elected  and  chosen  the  rule  by  which  he  shall  try  himself,  whether 
God  reign  in  him  or  not,  saying,  "When  he  shall  sit  upon  the 
throne  of  his  kingdom,  he  shall  write  to  himself  an  exemplar  of 
this  law,  in  a  book  by  the  priests  and  Levites ;  it  shall  be  with  him, 
and  he  shall  read  therein,  all  the  days  of  his  life  :  that  he  may  learn 
to  fear  the  Lord  his  God,  and  to  keep  all  the  words  of  His  law,  and 
these  statutes,  that  he  may  do  them ;  that  his  heart  be  not  lifted  up 
above  his  brethren,  and  that  he  turn  not  from  the  commandment,  to 
the  right  hand,  or  .to  the  left." 

The  same  is  repeated  to  Joshua,  in  his  inauguration  to  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  people,  by  God  Himself,  saying,  "Let  not  the  book 
of  this  law  depart  from  thy  mouth,  but  meditate  in  it  day  and  night, 
that  thou  mayest  keep  it,  and  do  according  to  all  that  which  is  writ- 
ten in  it.  For  then  shall  thy  way  be  prosperous,  and  thou  shall  do 
prudently." 

The  first  thing  then  that  God  requires  of  him  who  is  called  to  the 
honor  of  a  king,  is,  The  knowledge  of  His  will  revealed  in  His 
word. 

The  second  is.  An  upright  and  willing  mind,  to  put  in  execution 
such  things  as  God  commands  in  His  law,  without  declining  to  the 
right,  or  to  the  left  hand. 

Kings,  then,  have  not  an  absolute  j)owcr  to  do  in  their  govern- 
ment what  pleases  them,  but  their  power  is  limited  by  God's  word  ; 
so  that  if  they  strike  where  God  has  not  commanded,  they  are  but 
murderers ;  and  if  they  spare  where  God  has  commanded  to  strike, 
they  and  their  throne  are  criminal  and  guilty  of  the  wickedness 
which  abounds  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  for  lack  of  punishment. 
O  that  kings  and  princes  would  consider  what  account  shall  be 
craved  of  them,  as  well  of  their  ignorance  and  misknowledge  of 
God's  will  as  for  the  neglecting  of  their  ofi&ce  !  But  now  to  return 
to  the  words  of  the  prophet.  '  In  the  jjerson  of  the  whole  people  he 
complains  unto  God  that  the  Babylonians  (whom  he  calls  "  other 
lords  besides  God,"  both  because  of  their  ignorance  of  God  and  by 
reason  of  their  cruelty  and  inhumanity)  had  long  ruled  over  them 
in  great  rigor,  without  pity  or  compassion  upon  the  ancient  men  and 
famous  matrons ;  for  thej^,  being  mortal  enemies  to  the  people  of 
God,  sought  by  all  means  to  aggravate  their  yoke,  yea,  utterly  to 
exterminate  the  memory  of  them,  and  of  their  religion,  from  the 
face  of  the  earth.  *  *  *  * 
'  Hereof  it  is  evident  that  their  disobedience  unto  God  and  unto 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OP    KINGLY    POWER.     211 

the  voices  of  the  prophets  was  the  source  of  their  destruction.  Now 
have  we  to  take  heed  how  we  should  use  the  good  laws  of  God ; 
that  is,  His  will  revealed  unto  us  in  His  Word ;  and  that  order  of 
justice  which,  by  Him,  for  the  comfort  of  man,  is  established  among 
men.  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  obedience  is  the  most  acceptable 
sacrifice  unto  God,  and  that  which  above  all  things  He  requires  ;  so 
that  when  He  manifests  Himself  by  His  Word,  men  should  follow 
according  to  their  vocation  and  commandment.  Now  so  it  is  that 
God,  by  that  great  Pastor  our  Lord  Jesus,  now  manifestly  in  His 
Word  calls  us  fi'om  all  impiety,  as  well  of  body  as  of  mind,  to  holi- 
ness of  life,  and  to  His  spiritual  service  ;  and  for  this  purpose  He 
has  erected  the  throne  of  His  mercy  among  us,  the  true  preaching 
of  His  word,  together  with  the  right  administration  of  His  sacra- 
ments ;  but  what  our  obedience  is,  let  every  man  examine  his  own 
conscience,  and  consider  what  statutes  and  laws  we  would  have  to 
be  given  unto  her. 

Wouldst  thou,  0  Scotland !  have  a  king  to  reign  over  thee  in 
justice,  equity,  and  mercy  ?  Subject  thou  thyself  to  the  Lord  thy 
God,  obey  His  commandments,  and  magnify  thou  the  Word  that 
calleth  unto  thee,  "  This  is  the  way,  walk  in  it ;"  and  if  thou  wilt 
not,  flatter  not  thyself;  the  same  justice  remains  this  day  in  God  to 
punish  thee,  Scotland,  and  thee  Edinburg  especially,  which  before 
punished  the  land  of  Judah  and  the  city  of  Jerusalem.  Every 
realm  or  nation,  saith  the  prophet  Jeremiah,  that  likewise  ofifendeth, 
shall  be  likewise  punished,  but  if  thou  shalt  see  impiety  placed  in 
the  seat  of  justice  above  thee,  so  that  in  the  throne  of  God  (as  Solo- 
mon complains)  reigns  nothing  but  fraud  and  violence,  accuse  thine 
own  ingratitude  and  rebellion  against  God ;  for  that  is  the  only 
cause  why  God  takes  away  "  the  strong  man  and  the  man  of  war, 
the  judge  and  the  prophet,  the  prudent  and  the  aged,  the  captain 
and  the  honorable,  the  counselor  and  the  cunning  artificer ;  and  I 
will  appoint,  saith  the  Lord,  children  to  be  their  princes,  and  babes 
shall  rule  over  them.  Children  are  extortioners  of  my  people,  and 
women  have  rule  over  them." 

If  these  calamities,  I  say,  apprehend  us,  so  that  we  see  nothing 
but  the  oppression  of  good  men  and  of  all  godliness,  and  that 
wicked  men  without  God  reign  above  us ;  let  us  accuse  and  condemn 
ourselves,  as  the  only  cause  of  our  own  miseries.  For  if  we  had 
heard  the  voice  of  the  Lord  our  God,  and  given  upright  obedience 
unto  the'  same,  God  would  have  multijDlied  our  peace,  and  would 
have  rewarded  our  obedience  before  the  eyes  of  the  world.  But  now 
let  us  hear  what  the  prophet  saith  further :  "  The  dead  shall  not 


212  JOHN    KNOX. 

live,"  saitli  lie,  "neither  shall  the  tyrants,  nor  the  dead  arise,  be- 
cause Thou  hast  visited  and  scattered  them,  and  destroyed  all  their 
memory." 

From  this  fourteenth  verse  unto  the  end  of  the  nineteenth,  it  ap- 
pears that  the  prophet  observes  no  order ;  yea,  that  he  speaks  things 
directly  repugning'^ one  to  another;  for,  firsi^  he  saith,  "The  dead  shall 
not  live ;"  afterward  he  affirms,  "Thy  dead  men  shall  live."  Secondly, 
he  saith,  "  Thou  hast  visited  and  scattered  them,  and  destroyed  all 
their  memory."  Immediately  after,  he  saith,  "  Thou  hast  increased 
Thy  nation,  0  Lord,  Thou  hast  increased  Thy  nation.  They  have 
visited  Thee,  and  have  poured  forth  a  prayer  before  Thee." 

Who,  I  say,  would  not  think  that  these  are  things  not  only 
spoken  without  good  order  and  purpose,  but  also  manifestly  repugn- 
ing one  to  another  ?  For  to  live,  and  not  to  live,  to  be  so  destroyed 
that  no  memorial  remains,  and  to  be  so  increased  that  the  coasts  of 
the  earth  shall  be  replenished,  seems  to  impart  plain  contradiction. 
For  removing  of  this  doubt,  and  for  better  understanding  the  proph- 
et's mind,  w^e  must  observe,  that  the  prophet  had  to  do  with  divers 
sorts  of  men ;  he  had  to  do  with  the  conjuredf  and  manifest  enemies 
of  God's  people,  the  Chaldeans  or  Babylonians ;  even  so,  such  as 
profess  Christ  Jesus  have  to  do  with  the  Turks  and  Saracens.  He 
had  to  do  with  the  seed  of  Abraham,  whereof  there  were  three 
sorts.  The  ten  tribes  were  all  degenerated  from  the  true  worshiping 
of  God  and  corrupted  with  idolatry,  as  this  day  are  our  pestilent 
papists  in  all  realms  and  nations  ;  there  rested  only  the  tribe  of  Ju- 
dah  at  Jerusalem,  where  the  form  of  true  religion  was  observed,  the 
law  taught,  and  the  ordinances  of  God  outwardly  kept.  But  yet 
there  were  in  that  body,  I  mean  in  the  body  of  the  visible  Church, 
a  great  number  that  were  hypocrites,  as  this  day  yet  are  among  us 
that  profess  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  have  refused  papistry ;  also  not  a 
few  that  were  licentious  livers  ;  some  that  turned  their  back  to  God, 
that  is,  had  forsaken  all  true  religion ;  and  some  that  lived  a  most 
abominable  life,  as  Ezekiel  saith  in  his  vision  ;  and  yet  there  were 
some  godly,  as  a  few  wheat-corns  oppressed:}:  and  hid  among  the 
multitude  of  chaff :  now,  according  to  this  diversity,  the  prophet 
keeps  divers  purposes,  and  yet  in  most  perfect  order. 

And  first,  after  the  first  part  of  the  complaint  of  the  afilicted  as 
we  have  heard,  in  vehemency  of  spirit  he  bursts  forth  against  all  the 
proud  enemies  of  God's  people,  against  all  such  as  trouble  them,  and 
against  all  such  as  mock  and  forsake  God,  and  saith,  "  The  dead 
shall  not  live,  the  proud  giants  shall  not  rise  ;  Thou  hast  scattered 

*  Opposing.  f  Combined.  \  Covered  over,  weighed  down. 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OF    KINGLY  'POWER.     213 

tliem,  and  destroyed  their  memorial."  lu  whicli  words  lie  contends 
against  the  present  temptation  and  dolorous  state  of  God's  people, 
and  against  the  insolent  pride  of  such  as  oppressed  them  ;  as  if  the 
prophet  should  say,  O  ye  troublers  of  God's  people !  howsoever  it 
appears  to  you  in  this  your  bloody  rage,  that  God  regards  not  your 
cruelty,  nor  considers  what  violence  you  do  to  His  poor  afflicted,  yet 
shall  you  be  visited,  yea,  your  carcasses  shall  fall  and  lie  as  stinking 
carrion  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  you  shall  fall  without  hope  of 
life,  or  of  a  blessed  resurrection ;  yea,  howsoever  you  gather  your 
substance  and  augment  your  families,  you  shall  be  so  scattered  that 
5^ou  shall  leave  no  memorial  of  you  to  the  posterities  to  come,  but 
that  which  shall  be  execrable  and  odious. 

Hereof  the  tyrants  have  their  admonition,  and  the  afflicted 
Church  inestimable  comfort :  the  tyrants  that  oppress  shall  receive 
the  same  end  which  they  did  who  have  passed  before  :  that  is,  they 
shall  die  and  fall  with  shame,  without  hope  of  resurrection,  as  is 
aforesaid.  Not  that  they  shall  not  arise  to  their  own  confusion  and 
just  condemnation;  but  that  they  shall  not  recover  power  to  trouble 
the  servants  of  God  ;  neither  yet  shall  the  wicked  arise,  as  David 
saith,  in  the  counsel  of  the  just.  Now  the  wicked  have  their  coun- 
sels, their  thrones,  and  finally  handle*  (for  the  most  part)  all  things 
that  are  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  but  the  poor  servants  of  God 
are  reputed  unworthy  of  men's  presence,  envied  and  mocked  ;  yea, 
they  are  more  vile  before  these  proud  tyrants  than  is  the  very  dirt 
and  mire  which  is  trodden  under  foot.  But  in  that  glorious  resur- 
rection this  state  shall  be  changed ;  for  then  shall  such  as  now,  by 
their  abominable  living  and  cruelty,  destroy  the  earth  and  molest 
God's  children,  see  Him  whom  they  have  pierced ;  they  shall  see 
the  glory  of  such  as  now  they  persecute,  to  their  terror  and  ever- 
lasting confusion.  The  remembrance  hereof  ought  to  make  us  pa- 
tient in  the  days  of  affliction,  and  so  to  comfort  us  that  when  we  see 
t}- rants  in  their  blind  rage  tread  under  foot  the  saints  of  God,  we 
despair  not  utterly,  as  if  there  were  neither  wisdom,  justice,  nor 
power  above  in  the  heavens  to  repress  such  tyrants,  and  to  redress 
the  dolors  of  the  unjustly  afflicted.  No,  brethren,  let  us  be  assured 
that  the  right  hand  of  the  Lord  will  change  the  state  of  things  that 
are  most  desperate.  In  our  God  there  is  wisdom  and  power,  in  a 
moment  to  change  the  joy  and  mirth  of  our  enemies  into  everlasting 
mourning,  and  our  sorrows  into  joy  and  gladness  that  shall  have  no 
end. 

Therefore,  in  these  apparent  calamities  (and  marvel  not  that  I 

*  Manage. 


214  JOHN    KNOX. 

say  aj)parent  calamities,  for  lie  that  sees  not  a  fire  is  begun,  that  shall 
burn  more  than  we  look  for,  unless  God  of  His  mercy  quench  it,* 
is  more  than  blind),  let  ns  not  be  discouraged,  but  with  unfeigned 
repentance  let  us  return  to  the  Lord  our  God ;  let  us  accuse  and 
condemn  our  former  negligence,  and  steadfastly  depend  upon  his 
promised  deliverance ;  so  shall  our  temporal  sorrows  be  converted 
into  everlasting  joy.  The  doubt  that  might  be  moved  concerning 
the  destruction  of  those  whom  God  exalteth,  shall  be  discussed^  if 
time  will  suffer,  after  we  have  passed  throughout  the  text.  ^The 
prophet  now  proceeds  and  saith,  "  Thou  hast  increased  the  nations, 
0  Lord,  Thou  hast  increased  the  nations  ;  Thou  art  made  glorious, 
Thou  hast  enlarged  all  the  coasts  of  the  earth.     Lord,  in  trouble,"  etc. 

In  these  words  the  prophet  gives  consolation  to  the  afflicted,  as- 
suring them  that  how  horrible  soever  the  desolation  should  be,  yet 
should  the  seed  of  Abraham  be  so  multiplied,  that  it  should  replenish 
the  coasts  of  the  earth ;  yea,  that  God  should  be  more  glorified  in 
their  affliction  than  He  was  during  the  time  of  their  prosperity. 
This  promise,  no  doubt,  was  incredible  when  it  was  made  ;  for  who 
could  have  been  persuaded  that  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  should 
have  been  the  means  whereby  the  nation  of  the  Jews  should  have 
been  increased  ?  seeing  that  much  rather  it  appeared,  that  the  over- 
throw of  Jerusalem  should  have  been  the  very  abolishing  of  the 
seed  of  Abraham :  but  we  must  consider,  to  what  end  it  was  that 
God  revealed  Himself  to  Abraham,  and  what  is  contained  in  the 
promise  of  the  multiplication  of  his  seed,  and  the  benediction  prom- 
ised thereto. 

[Instances  are  here  adduced  in  which  God  has  "■  notified  His 
name"  in  the  history  of  the  Jews.] 

Wherefore,  dear  brethren,  we  have  no  small  consolation,  if  the 
state  of  all  things  be  rightly  considered.  We  see  in  what  fury  and 
rage  the  world,  for  the  most  part,  is  now  raised,  against  the  poor 
Church  of  Jesus  Christ,  unto  which  He  has  proclaimed  liberty,  after 
the  fearful  bondage  of  that  spiritual  Babylon,  in  which  we  have  been 
holden  captives  longer  space  than  Israel  was  j)risoner  in  Babylon  it- 
self: for  if  we  shall  consider,  upon  the  one  part,  the  multitude  of 
those  that  live  wholly  without  Christ ;  and,  upon  the  other  part,  the 
blind  rage  of  the  pestilent  papists  ;  what  shall  we  think  of  the  small 
number  of  them  that  profess  Christ  Jesus,  but  that  they  are  as  a  poor 
sheep,  already  seized  in  the  claws  of  the  lion  ;  yea,  that  they,  and  the 
true  religion  which  they  profess,  shall  in  a  moment  be  utterly  consumed  ? 

But  ao"ainst  this  fearful  temptation,  let  us  be  armed  with  the 
*  Alluding  to  the  political  troubles  of  that  day. 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OP    KINGLY    POWER.    215 

promise  of  God,  namely,  that  He  will  be  tlie  protector  of  Ilis  Churcli ; 
yea,  that  He  will  multiply  it,  even  when  to  man's  judgment  it  ap- 
pears utterly  to  be  exterminated.  This  promise  has  our  God  per- 
formed, in  the  multiplication  of  Abraham's  seed,  in  the  preservation 
of  it  when  Satan  labored  utterly  to  have  destroyed  it,  and  in  deliver- 
ance of  the  same,  as  we  have  heard,  from  Babylon.  He  hath  sent 
His  Son  Christ  Jesus,  clad  in  our  flesh,  who  hath  tasted  of  all  our 
infirmities  (sin  excepted),  who  hath  promised  to  be  with  us  to  the 
end  of  the  world  ;  He  hath  further  kept  jDromise  in  the  publication, 
yea,  in  the  restitution  of  His  glorious  Gospel.  Shall  we  then  think 
that  He  will  leave  His  Church  destitute  in  this  most  dangerous  age  ? 
Only  let  us  cleave  to  His  truth,  and  study  to  conform  our  lives  to 
the  same,  and  He  shall  multiply  His  knowledge,  and  increase  His 
people.     But  now  let  us  hear  what  the  prophet  saith  more  : 

"  Lord,  in  trouble  have  they  visited  Thee,  they  poured  out  a 
prayer  Avhen  Thy  chastening  was  upon  them." 

The  prophet  means  that  such  as  in  the  time  of  quietness  did  not 
rightly  regard  God  nor  His  judgments,  were  compelled,  by  sharp 
corrections,  to  seek  God ;  yea,  by  cries  and  dolorous  complaints  to 
visit  Him.  True  it  is,  that  such  obedience  deserves  small  praise  be- 
fore men ;  for  who  can  praise,  or  accept  that  in  good  part,  which 
comes  as  it  were  of  mere  compulsion  ?  And  yet  it  is  rare  that  any 
of  God's  children  do  give  unfeigned  obedience,  until  the  hand  of 
God  turn  them.  For  if  quietness  and  prosperity  make  them  not  ut- 
terly to  forget  their  duty,  both  toward  God  and  man,  as  David  for  a 
season,  yet  it  makes  them  careless,  insolent,  and  in  many  things  un- 
mindful of  those  things  that  God  chiefly  craves  of  them ;  which  im- 
perfections being  espied,  and  the  danger  that  thereof  might  ensue, 
our  heavenly  Father  visits  the  sins  of  His  children,  but  with  the  rod 
of  His  mercy,  by  which  they  are  moved  to  return  to  their  God,  to 
accuse  their  former  negligence,  and  to  promise  better  obedience  in 
all  times  hereafter ;  as  David  confessed,  saying,  "Before  I  fell  in 
afQiction  I  went  astray,  but  now  will  I  keep  Thy  statutes." 

But  yet,  for  the  better  understanding  of  the  prophet's  mind,  we 
may  consider  how  God  doth  visit  man,  and  how  man  doth  visit  God  ; 
and  what  difference  there  is  betwixt  the  visitation  of  God  upon  the 
reprobate,  and  His  visitation  upon  the  chosen. 

God  sometimes  visits  the  reprobate  in  His  hot  displeasure,  pour- 
ing upon  them  His  plagues  for  their  long  rebellion ;  as  we  have 
heard  before  that  He  visited  the  proud,  and  destroyed  their  memory. 
At  other  times  God  is  said  to  visit  His  people,  being  in  afQiction,  to 
whom  He  sends  comfort  or  promise  of  deliverance,  as  He  visited  the 


216  JOHN    KNOX. 

seed  of  Abraham,  wlien  oppressed  in  Egypt.  And  Zacharias  said 
that  "God  had  visited  His  people,  and  sent  unto  them  hope  of  de- 
liverance," when  John  the  Baptist  was  born.  But  of  none  of  these 
visitations  our  prophet  here  speaks,  but  of  that  only  which  we  have 
already  touched ;  namely,  when  God  layeth  His  correction  upon 
His  own  children,  to  call  them  from  the  venomous  breasts  of  this 
corrupt  world,  that  they  suck  not  in  over  great  abundance  the  poison 
thereof;  and  He  doth,  as  it  were,  wean  them  from  their  mother's 
breasts,  that  they  may  learn  to  receive  other  nourishment.  True  it 
is,  that  this  weaning  (or  speaning,  as  we  term  it)  from  worldly  pleas- 
ure, is  a  thing  strange  to  the  flesh.  And  yet  it  is  a  thing  so  neces- 
sary to  God's  children,  that,  unless  they  are  weaned  from  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  world,  they  can  never  feed  upon  that  delectable  milk  of 
God's  eternal  verity  ;  for  the  corruption  of  the  one  either  hinders  the 
other  from  being  received,  or  else  so  troubles  the  whole  powers  of 
man,  that  the  soul  can  never  so  digest  the  truth  of  God  as  he  ought 
to  do. 

Although  this  appears  hard,  yet  it  is  most  evident ;  for  Avhat  can 
we  receive  from  the  world,  but  that  which  is  in  the  world  ?  What 
that  is,  the  apostle  John  teaches ;  saying,  "  Whatsoever  is  in  the 
world,  is  either  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  or  the  pride 
of  life."  Now,  seeing  that  these  are  not  of  the  Father,  but  of  the 
world,  how  can  it  be,  that  our  souls  can  feed  uj)on  chastity,  temper- 
ance, and  humility,  so  long  as  our  stomachs  are  replenished  with  the 
corruption  of  these  vices  ? 

Now  so  it  is,  that  flesh  can  never  willingly  refuse  these  fore- 
named,  but  rather  still  delights  itself  in  every  one  of  them  ;  yea,  in 
them  all,  as  the  examples  are  but  too  evident. 

It  behooves,  therefore,  that  God  Himself  shall  violentl}^  pull  His 
children  from  these  venomous  breasts,  that  when  they  lack  the 
liquor  and  poison  of  the  world,  they  may  visit  Him,  and  learn  to  be 
nourished  of  Him.  Oh  if  the  eyes  of  worldly  princes  should  be 
opened,  that  they  might  see  with  with  what  humor  and  liquor  their 
souls  are  fed,  while  their  whole  delight  consists  in  pride,  ambition, 
and  the  lusts  of  the  corrupt  flesh  !  We  understand  then  how  God 
doth  visit  men,  as  well  by  His  severe  judgments  as  by  His  merciful 
visitation  of  deliverance  from  trouble,  or  by  bringing  trouble  upon 
His  chosen  for  their  humiliation  ;  and  now  it  remains  to  understand 
how  man  visits  God.  Man  doth  visit  God  when  he  appears  in  His 
presence,  be  it  for  the  hearing  of  His  word,  or  for  the  participation 
of  His  sacraments ;  as  the  people  of  Israel,  besides  the  observation 
of  their  sabbaths  and  daily  oblations,  were  commanded  thrice  a  year 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OF    KINGLY    POWER.    217 

to  present  themselves  before  the  presence  of  the  tabernacle  ;  and  as 
we  do,  and  as  often  as  we  present  ourselves  to  the  hearing  of  the 
word.  For  there  is  the  footstool,  yea,  there  is  the  face  and  throne 
of  God  Himself,  wheresoever  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  is  truly 
preached,  and  His  sacraments  rightly  ministered. 

But  men  may  on  this  sort  visit  God  hypocritically  ;  for  they  may 
come  for  the  fashion  ;  they  may  hear  with  deaf  ears  ;  yea,  they  may 
understand,  and  yet  never  determine  with  themselves  to  obey  that 
which  God  requires :  and  let  such  men  be  assured,  that  He  who 
searches  the  secrets  of  hearts  will  be  avenged  of  all  such  ;  for  noth- 
ing can  be  more  odious  to  God,  than  to  mock  Him  in  His  own 
presence.  Let  every  man  therefore  examine  himsell',  with  v/hat 
mind,  and  what  purpose,  he  comes  to  hear  the  word  of  God ;  3'ea, 
with  what  ear  he  hears  it,  and  what  testimony  his  heart  gives  unto 
Him,  when  God  commands  virtue,  and  forbids  impiety. 

Repinest  thou  when  God  requires  obedience?  Thou  hearest  to 
thine  own  condemnation.  Mockest  thou  at  God's  threatenings  ? 
Thou  shalt  feel  the  weight  and  truth  of  them,  albeit  too  late,  when 
flesh  and  blood  can  not  deliver  thee  from  His  hand  !  But  the 
visitation,  whereof  our  prophet  speaks,  is  only  proper  to  the  sons 
of  God,  who,  in  the  time  when  God  takes  from  them  the  pleasures  of 
the  world,  or  shows  His  angry  countenance  unto  them,  have  recourse 
unto  Him,  and  confessing  their  former  negligence,  with  troubled 
hearts,  cry  for  His  mercy.  This  visitation  is  not  proper  to  all  the 
afflicted,  but  appertains  only  to  God's  children :  for  the  reprobates 
can  never  have  access  to  God's  mercy  in  time  of  their  tribulation, 
and  that  because  they  abuse  His  long  patience,  as  well  as  the  man- 
ifold benefits  they  receive  from  His  hands ;  for  as  the  same  prophet 
heretofore  saith,  "Let  the  wicked  obtain  mercy,  yet  shall  he  never 
learn  wisdom,  but  in  the  land  of  righteousness;"  that  is,  where  the 
true  knowledge  of  God  abounds,  "  he  will  do  wickedly."  "Which  is 
a  crime  above  all  others  abominable  ;  for  to  what  end  is  it  that  God 
erects  His  throne  among  us,  but  that  we  should  fear  Him  ?  Why 
does  He  reveal  His  holy  will  unto  us,  but  that  we  should  obey  it  ? 
Why  does  He  deliver  us  from  trouble,  but  that  we  should  be  Avit- 
nesses  unto  the  world,  that  He  is  gracious  and  merciful  ? 

Kow,  when  men,  hearing  their  duty,  and  knowing  what  God  re- 
quires of  them,  do  malapertly  fight  against  all  equity  and  justice, 
what,  I  pray  you,  do  they  else  but  make  manifest  war  against  God  ? 
Yea,  when  they  have  received  from  God  such  deliverance,  that  they 
can  not  deny  but  that  God  Himself  hath  in  His  great  mercy  visited 
them,  and  yet  they  continue  wicked  as  before ;  what  deserve  they 


218  JOHN    KNOX. 

but  effectually  to  be  given  over  uuto  a  reprobate  sense,  tliat  tliey 
may  headlong  run  to  ruin,  both,  of  body  and  soul  ?  It  is  almost  in- 
credible that  a  man  should  be  so  enraged  against  God,  that  neither 
His  plagues,  nor  yet  His  mercy  showed,  should  move  him  to  repent- 
ance ;  but  because  the  Scriptures  bear  witness  of  the  one  and  the 
other,  let  us  cease  to  marvel,  and  let  us  firmly  believe,  that  such 
things  as  have  been,  are  even  at  present  before  our  eyes,  albeit  many, 
blinded  by  affection,  can  not  see  them. 

[The  case  of  Ahab  is  instanced  as  an  illustration.] 

"Like  as  a  woman  with  child,  that  draweth  near  her  travail,  is  in 
sorrow,  and  crieth  in  her  pains,  so  have  we  been  in  Thy  sight,  0 
Lord ;  we  have  conceived,  we  have  borne  in  vain,  as  though  we 
should  have  brought  forth  the  wind.  Salvations  were  not  made  to 
the  earth,  neither  did  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  fall." 

This  is  the  second  part  of  the  prophet's  complaint,  in  which  he, 
in  the  joerson  of  God's  people,  complains,  that  of  their  great  affliction 
there  appeared  no  end.  This  same  similitude  is  used  by  our  Master 
Jesus  Christ;  for  when  He  speaks  of  the  troubles  of  His  Church, 
He  compares  them  to  the  pains  of  a  woman  travailing  in  child-birth. 
But  it  is  to  another  end ;  for  there  He  promises  exceeding  and  per- 
manent joy  after  a  sort,  though  it  appear  trouble.  But  here  is  the 
trouble  long  and  vehement,  albeit  the  fruit  of  it  was  not  suddenly 
espied.  He  speaks  no  doubt  of  that  long  and  dolorous  time  of  their 
captivity,  in  which  they  continually  labored  for  deliverance,  but  ob- 
tained it  not  before  the  complete  end  of  seventy  years.  During 
which  time  the  earth,  that  is,  the  land  of  Judah,  which  sometimes 
was  sanctified  unto  God,  but  was  then  given  to  be  profaned  by 
wicked  people,  got  no  help,  nor  perceived  any  deliverance  :  for  the 
inhabitants  of  the  world  fell  not ;  that  is,  the  tyrants  and  oppressors 
of  God's  people  were  not  taken  away,  but  still  remained  and  con- 
tinued blasphemers  of  God,  and  troublers  of  His  Church.  But 
because  I  perceive  the  hours  to  pass  more  swiftly  than  they  have 
seemed  at  other  times,  I  must  contract  that  which  remains  of  this 
text  into  certain  points. 

The  prophet  first  contends  against  the  present  despair;  after- 
ward he  introduces  God  Himself  calling  upon  His  people ;  and,  last 
of  all,  he  assures  His  afihcted  that  God  will  come,  and  require  ac- 
count of  all  the  blood-thirsty  tyrants  of  the  earth. 

First,  Fighting  against  the  present  despair,  he  saith,  "  Thy  dead 
shall  live,  even  my  body  (or  with  my  body)  shall  they  arise  ;  awake 
and  sing,  ye  that  dwell  in  the  dust ;  for  thy  dew  is  as  the  dew  of 
herbs." 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OF    KINGLY    POWER. 


219 


The  prophet  liere  pierces  tlirougli  all  impediments  that  nature 
could  object ;  and,  by  the  victory  of  faith,  he  overcomes  not  only 
the  common  enemies,  but  the  great  and  last  enemy  of  all,  death  it- 
self; for  this  would  he  say,  Lord,  I  see  nothing  for  Thy  chosen,  but 
misery  to  follow  misery,  and  one  affliction  to  succeed  another  ;  yea, 
in  the  end  I  see  that  death  shall  devour  Thy  dearest  children.  But 
yet,  O  Lord !  I  see  Thy  promise  to  be  true,  and  Thy  love  to  remain 
toward  Thy  chosen,  even  when  death  appears  to  have  devoured 
them  :  "  For  Thy  dead  shall  live  ;  yea,  not  only  shall  they  live,  but 
my  very  dead  carcase  shall  arise  ;"  and  so  I  see  honor  and  glory  to 
succeed  this  temporal  shame ;  I  see  permanent  joy  to  come  after 
trouble,  order  to  spring  out  of  this  terrible  confusion  ;  and,  finally, 
I  see  that  life  shall  devour  death,  so  that  death  shall  be  destroyed, 
and  so  Thy  servants  shall  have  life.  This,  I  say,  is  the  victory  of 
faith,  when  to  the  midst  of  death,  through  the  light  of  God's  word, 
the  afflicted  see  life.  Hypocrites,  in  the  time  of  quietness  and  pros- 
perity, can  generally  confess  that  God  is  true  to  His  promises ;  but 
bring  them  to  the  extremity,  and  there  the  hyj)ocrite  ceases  further 
to  trust  in  God,  than  he  seeth  natural  means,  whereby  God  useth  to 
work.  But  the  true  faithful,  when  all  hope  of  natural  means  fail, 
flee  to  God  Himself  and  to  the  truth  of  His  promise,  who  is  above 
nature  ;  yea,  whose  works  are  not  so  subject  to  the  ordinary  course 
of  nature,  that  when  nature  fails.  His  power  and  promise  fail  also 
therewith.     [The  text  is  here  further  explained.] 

This  vision,  I  say,  given  to  the  prophet,  and  by  the  prophet 
preached  to  the  people,  when  they  thought  that  God  had  utterly  for- 
gotten them,  compelled  them  more  diligently  to  advert  to  what 
the  former  prophets  had  spoken.  It  is  no  doubt  but  that  they 
carried  with  them  both  the  jDrophecy  of  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah,  so  that 
the  jDrophet  Ezekiel  is  a  commentary  to  these  words  of  Isaiah,  where 
he  saith,  "  Thy  dead,  O  Lord,  shall  live,  with  my  body  they  shall 
arise."  The  prophet  brings  in  this  similitude  of  the  dew,  to  answer 
unto  that  part  of  their  fidelity,  who  can  believe  no  further  of  God's 
promises  than  they  are  able  to  apprehend  by  natural  judgment;  as 
if  he  would  say.  Think  ye  this  impossible  that  God  should  give  life 
unto  you,  and  bring  you  to  an  estate  of  a  commonwealth  again,  after 
that  ye  are  dead,  and,  as  it  were,  razed  from  the  face  of  the  earth  ? 
But  why  do  you  not  consider  what  God  worketh  from  year  to  year 
in  the  order  of  nature  ?  Sometimes  you  see  the  face  of  the  earth 
decked  and  beautified  with  herbs,  flowers,  grass,  and  fruits:  again 
you  see  the  same  utterly  taken  away  by  storms  and  the  vehemence 
of  the  winter :  what  does  God  to  replenish  the  earth  again,  and  to 


220  JOHN    KNOX. 

restore  tlie  beauty  thereof?  He  sends  down  his  small  and  soft  dew, 
the  drops  whereof,  in  their  descending,  are  neither  great  nor  visible, 
and  yet  thereby  are  the  pores  and  secret  veins  of  the  earth,  which 
before,  by  vehemence  of  frost  and  cold  were  shut  up,  opened 
again,  and  so  does  the  earth  produce  again  the  like  herbs,  flowers, 
and  fruits.  Shall  you  then  think  that  the  dew  of  God's  heavenly 
grace  will  not  be  as  effectual  in  you,  to  whom  He  hath  made  His 
promise,  as  it  is  in  the  herbs  and  fruits  which,  from  year  to  year  bud 
forth  and  decay  ?  If  you  do  so,  the  prophet  would  say  your  incred- 
ibility* is  inexcusable ;  because  you  neither  rightly  weigh  the  power 
nor  the  promises  of  your  Grod. 

The  like  similitude  the  Apostle  Paul  uses  against  such  as  called 
the  resurrection  in  doubt,  because  by  natural  judgment  they  could 
not  apprehend  that  flesh  once  putrified,  and  dissolved  as  it  were  into 
other  substances,  should  rise  again,  and  return  again  to  the  same 
substance  and  nature:  "0  fool,"  saith  he,  "that  which  thou  sowest 
is  not  quickened,  except  it  die ;  and  that  which  thou  sowest,  thou 
sowest  not  that  body  that  shall  be,  but  bare  corn,  as  it  falleth,  of 
wheat,  or  some  other,  but  God  giveth  it  a  body  as  it  pleaseth  Him, 
even  to  every  seed  His  own  body."  In  which  words  and  sentence 
the  Apostle  sharply  rebukes  the  gross  ignorance  of  the  Corinthians, 
who  began  to  call  in  doubt  the  chief  article  of  our  faith,  the  resur- 
rection of  the  flesh  after  it  was  once  dissolved,  because  that  natural 
judgment,  as  he  said,  reclaimed  thereto.f  He  reproves,  I  say,  their 
gross  ignorance,  because  they  might  have  seen  and  considered  some 
proof  and  document  thereof  in  the  very  order  of  nature ;  for  albeit 
the  wheat  or  other  corn,  cast  in  the  earth,  appears  to  die  or  putrify, 
and  so  to  be  lost,  yet  we  see  that  it  is  not  perished,  but  that  it  fruc- 
tifies according  to  God's  will  and  ordinance. 

Now,  if  the  power  of  God  be  so  manifest  in  raising  up  of  the  fruits 
of  the  earth,  unto  which  no  particular  promise  is  made  by  God,  what 
shall  be  His  power  and  virtue  in  raising  up  our  bodies,  seeing  that 
thereto  He  is  bound  by  the  solemn  promise  of  Jesus  Christ,  His 
Eternal  Wisdom,  and  the  Verity  itself  that  can  not  lie  ?  Yea,  seeing 
that  the  members  must  once  communicate  with  the  glory  of  the 
Head,  how  shall  our  bodies,  which  are  flesh  of  His  flesh,  and  bone 
of  His  bones,  lie  still  forever  in  corruption,  seeing  that  our  Head, 
Jesus  Christ,  is  now  exalted  in  His  glory  ?  Neither  yet  is  this  power 
and  good-will  of  God  to  be  restrained  unto  the  last  and  general 
resurrection  only,  but  we  ought  to  consider  it  in  the  marvelous  pres- 
ervation of  His  Church,  and  in  the  raising  up  of  the  same  from  the 

*  Unbelief.  f  Cried  out  against  it. 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OF    KINGLY    POWER.     221 

very  bottom  of  death,  when  by  tyrants  it  lias  been  oppressed  from 
age  to  age. 

Now^  of  the  former  words  of  the  prophet,  we  have  to  gather  this 
comfort;  that  if  at  any  time  we  see  the  face  of  the  Church  within 
this  realm  so  defaced,  as  I  think  it  shall  be  sooner  than  we  look  for 
— when  we  shall  see,  I  say,  virtue  to  be  despised,  vice  to  be  main- 
tained, the  verity  of  God  to  be  impugned,  lies  and  men's  inventions 
holden  in  authority — and  finally,  when  we  see  the  true  religion  of 
our  God,  and  the  zealous  observers  of  the  same,  trodden  under  the 
feet  of  such  as  in  their  heart  say,  that  "  There  is  no  God,"  let  us 
then  call  to  mind  what  have  been  the  wondrous  works  of  our  God 
from  the  beginning — that  it  is  His  proper  of&ce  to  bring  light  out  of 
darkness,  order  out  of  confusion,  life  out  of  death ;  and  finally,  that 
this  is  He  that  calleth  things  that  are  not  even  as  if  they  were,  as 
before  we  have  heard.  And  if  in  the  day  of  our  temptation,  which 
in  my  judgment  approaches  fast,  we  are  thus  armed,  if  our  incre- 
dulity can  not  utterly  be  removed,  yet  shall  it  be  so  corrected,  that 
damnable  despair  oppress  us  not.  But  now  let  us  hear  how  the 
prophet  proceeds : — 

"  Come,  thou  My  people,  enter  within  thy  chamber,  shut  thy  door 
after  thee,  hide  thyself  a  very  little  while,  until  the  indignation  pass 
over." 

Here  the  prophet  brings  in  God  amiably,*  calling  upon  His 
people  to  come  to  Himself,  and  to  rest  with  Him,  until  such  time  as 
the  fury  and  sharp  plagues  should  be  executed  upon  the  wicked  and 
disobedient.  It  may  appear  at  the  first  sight,  that  all  these  words  of 
the  prophet,  in  the  person  of  God,  calling  the  people  unto  rest,  are 
spoken  in  vain ;  for  we  neither  find  chambers  nor  rest,  more  pre- 
pared for  the  dearest  children  of  God,  so  far  as  man's  judgment  can 
discern,  than  for  the  rebellious  and  disobedient ;  for  such  as  fell  not 
by  the  edge  of  the  sword,  or  died  not  of  pestilence,  or  by  hunger, 
were  either  carried  captives  unto  Babylon,  or  else  departed  afterward 
into  Egypt,  so  that  none  of  Abraham's  seed  had  either  chamber  or 
quiet  place  to  remain  in  within  the  land  of  Canaan.  For  the  reso- 
lution hereof,  we  must  understand.  That  albeit  the  chambers  where- 
unto  God  has  called  His  chosen  be  not  visible,  yet  notwithstanding 
they  are  certain,  and  offer  unto  God's  children  a  quiet  habitation  in 
spirit,  howsoever  the  flesh  be  travailed  and  tormented. 

The  chambers,  then,  are  God's  sure  promises,  unto  which  God's 
people  are  commanded  to  resort ;  yea,  within  which  they  are  com- 
manded to  close  themselves  in  the  time  of  greatest  adversity.     The 

*  Lovingly. 


222  JOHN    KNOX. 

manner  of  speaking  is  borrowed  from  that  judgment  and  foresight 
■wbicli  God  lias  printed  in  this  our  nature ;  for  when  men  espy  great 
tempests  appearing  to  come,  thej  will  not  willingly  remain  uncov- 
ered in  the  fields,  but  straightway  they  will  draw  them  to  their 
houses  or  holds,  that  they  may  escape  the  vehemence  of  the  same ; 
and  if  they  fear  any  enemy  pursues  them,  they  will  shut  their  doors, 
to  the  end  that  the  enemy  should  not  suddenly  have  entry. 

After  this  manner  God  speaks  to  His  people ;  as  if  He  should 
say,  The  tempest  that  shall  come  upon  this  whole  nation  shall  be  so 
terrible,  that  nothing  but  extermination  shall  appear  to  come' upon 
the  whole  body.  But  thou  My  people,  that  hearest  My  word,  believ- 
est  the  same,  and  tremblest  at  the  threatenings  of  My  prophets,  now, 
when  the  world  does  insolently  resist — let  such,  I  say,  enter  within 
the  secret  chamber  of  My  promises,  let  them  contain  themselves  qui- 
etly there ;  yea,  let  them  shut  the  door  upon  them,  and  suffer  not 
infidelity,  the  mortal  enemy  of  My  truth  and  of  My  people  that 
depend  thereupon,  to  have  free  entry  to  trouble  them,  yea,  further 
to  murder,  in  My  promise ;  and  so  shall  they  perceive  that  My 
indignation  shall  pass,  and  that  such  as  depend  upon  Me  shall  be 
saved. 

Thus  we  may  perceive  the  meaning  of  the  prophet ;  whereof  we 
have  first  to  observe  that  God  acknowledges  them  for  His  people 
who  are  in  the  greatest  afiliction ;  yea,  such  as  are  reputed  unAvorthy 
of  men's  presence  are  yet  admitted  within  the  secret  chamber  of  God. 
Let  no  man  think  that  flesh  and  blood  can  suddenly  attain  to  that 
comfort ;  and  therefore  most  expedient  it  is,  that  we  be  frequently 
exercised  in  meditation  of  the  same.  Easy  it  is,  I  grant,  in  time  of 
prosperity,  to  say  and  to  think  that  God  is  our  God,  and  that  we 
are  His  people ;  but  when  He  has  given  us  over  into  the  hands  of 
our  enemies,  and  turned,  as  it  were,  His  back  unto  us,  then,  I  say, 
still  to  reclaim  Him  to  be  our  God,  and  to  have  this  assurance,  that 
that  we  are  His  people,  proceeds  wholly  from  the  Holy  Spirit  of 
God,  as  it  is  the  greatest  victory  of  faith,  which  overcomes  the 
world ;  for  increase  whereof  we  ought  continually  to  pray. 

This  doctrine  we  shall  not  think  strange,  if  we  consider  how 
suddenly  our  spirits  are  carried  away  from  our  God,  and  from  be- 
lieving His  promise.  So  soon  as  any  great  temptation  apprehends 
us,  then  Ave  begin  to  doubt  if  ever  we  believed  God's  promises,  if 
God  will  fulfill  them  to  us,  if  we  abide  in  His  favor,  if  He  regards 
and  looks  upon  the  violence  and  injury  that  is  done  unto  us ;  and  a 
multitude  of  such  cogitations  which  before  lurked  quietly  in  our 
corrupted  hearts,  burst  violently  forth  when  we  are  ojopresscd  with 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OF    KINGLY    POWER.     £23 

any  desperate  calamity.  Against  wliicli  tliis  is  tlie  remedy — once  to 
apprehend,  and  still  to  retain  God  to  be  our  God,  and  firmly  to  be- 
lieve, that  we  are  His  people  whom  He  loves,  and  will  defend,  not 
only  in  affliction,  but  even  in  the  midst  of  death  itself. 

Again,  Let  us  observe.  That  the  judgments  of  our  God  never 
were,  nor  yet  shall  be  so  vehement  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  but 
that  there  has  been,  and  shall  be,  some  secret  habitation  prepared  in 
the  sanctuary  of  God,  for  some  of  His  chosen,  where  they  shall  be 
preserved  until  the  indignation  pass  by ;  and  that  God  prepares 
a  time,  that  they  may  glorify  Him  again,  before  the  face  of  the 
world,  which  once  despised  them.  And  this  ought  to  be  unto  us  no 
small  comfort  in  these  appearing  dangers,  namely,  that  we  are  surely 
persuaded,  that  how  vehement  soever  the  tempest  shall  be,  it  yet 
shall  pass  over,  and  some  of  us  shall  be  preserved  to  glorify  the  name 
of  our  God,  as  is  aforesaid. 

Two  vices  lurk  in  this  our  nature :  the  one  is,  that  we  can  not 
tremble  at  God's  threatenings,  before  the  plagues  apprehend  us, 
albeit  we  see  cause  most  just  why  His  fierce  wrath  should  burn  as  a 
devouring  fire ;  the  other  is,  that  when  calamities  before  pronounced, 
fall  upon  us,  then  we  begin  to  sink  down  in  despair,  so  that  we 
never  look  for  any  comfortable  end  of  the  same. 

To  correct  this  our  mortal  infirmity,  in  time  of  quietness  we 
ought  to  consider  what  is  the  justice  of  our  God,  and  how  odious 
sin  is ;  and,  above  all,  how  odious  idolatry  is  in  His  presence,  who 
has  forbidden  it,  and  who  has  so  severely  punished  it  in  all  ages 
from  the  beginning :  and  in  the  time  of  our  affliction  we  ought  to 
consider,  what  have  been  the  wondrous  works  of  our  God,  in  the  pres- 
ervation of  His  Church  when  it  hath  been  in  uttermost  extremity. 
For  never  shall  we  find  the  Church  humbled  under  the  hands  of 
traitors,  and  cruelly  tormented  by  them,  but  we  shall  find  God's  just 
vengeance  full  upon  the  cruel  persecutors,  and  His  merciful  deliver- 
ance showed  to  the  afflicted.  And,  in  taking  of  this  trial,  we  should 
not  only  call  to  mind  the  histories  of  ancient  times,  but  also  we 
should  diligently  mark  what  notable  works  God  hath  wrought,  even 
in  this  our  age,  as  well  upon  the  one  as  upon  the  other.  We  ought 
not  to  think  that  our  God  bears  less  love  to  His  Church  this  day, 
than  what  He  has  done  from  the  beginning ;  for  as  our  God  in  His 
own  nature  is  immutable,  so  His  love  toward  His  elect  remains 
always  unchangeable.  For  as  in  Christ  Jesus  He  hath  chosen  His 
Church,  before  the  beginning  of  all  ages ;  so  by  Him  will  He  main- 
tain and  preserve  the  same  unto  the  end.  Yea,  He  will  quiet  the 
storms,  and  cause  the  earth  to  open  her  mouth,  and  receive  the  rag- 


224  JOHN    KNOX. 

ing  floods  of  violent  waters,  cast  out  by  the  dragon,  to  drown  and 
carry  away  the  woman,  which  is  the  spouse  of  Jesus  Christ,  unto 
whom  God  for  His  own  name's  sake  will  be  the  perpetual  Protector. 

This  saw  that  notable  servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  Athanasius,  who 
being  exiled  from  Alexandria  by  that  blasphemous,  apostate,  Julian 
the  emperor,  said  unto  his  flock,  who  bitterly  wept  for  his  envious 
banishment,  "Weep  not,  but  be  of  good  comfort,  for  this  little 
cloud  will  saddenly  vanish,"  He  called  both  the  emperor  himself 
and  his  cruel  tyranny  a  little  cloud ;  and  albeit  there  was  small  ap- 
pearance of  any  deliverance  to  the  Church  of  God,  or  of  any  pun- 
ishment to  have  apprehended  the  proud  tyrants,  when  the  man  of 
God  pronounced  these  words,  yet  shortly  after  God  did  give  witness 
that  those  words  did  not  proceed  from  flesh  nor  blood,  but  from 
God's  very  Spirit.  For  not  long  after,  being  in  warfare,  Julian 
received  a  deadly  wound,  whether  by  his  own  hand,  or  by  one  of 
his  own  soldiers,  the  writers  clearly  conclude  not ;  but  casting  his 
own  blood  against  the  heaven,  he  said,  "  At  last  Thou  hast  over- 
come, thou  Galilean :"  so  in  despite  he  termed  the  Lord  Jesus.  And 
so  perished  that  tyrant  in  his  own  iniquity ;  the  storm  ceased,  and 
the  Church  of  God  received  new  comfort. 

Such  shall  be  the  end  of  all  cruel  persecutors,  their  reign  shall 
be  short,  their  end  miserable,  and  their  name  shall  be  left  in  execra- 
tions to  God's  people ;  and  yet  shall  the  Church  of  God  remain  to 
God's  glory,  after  all  storms.  But  now  shortly,  let  us  come  to  the 
last  point : 

"  For  behold,"  saith  the  prophet,  "  the  Lord  will  come  out  of 
His  place,  to  visit  the  iniquity  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth 
upon  them ;  and  the  earth  shall  disclose  her  blood,  and  shall  no 
more  hide  her  slain."  Because  that  the  final  end  of  the  troubles  of 
God's  chosen  shall  not  be,  before  the  Lord  Jesus  shall  return  to 
restore  all  things  to  their  full  perfection. 

The  prophet  brings  forth  the  eternal  God,  as  it  were,  from  his 
own  place  and  habitation,  and  therewith  shows  the  cause  of  His 
coming  to  be,  that  He  might  take  account  of  all  such  as  have 
wrought  wickedly ;  for  that  he  means,  where  he  saith,  "  He  will 
visit  the  iniquity  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  upon  them."  And 
lest  any  should  think  the  wrong  doers  are  so  many,  that  they  can 
not  be  called  to  an  account,  he  gives  unto  the  earth  as  it  were  an 
office  and  charge,  to  bear  witness  against  all  those  that  have  wrought 
wickedly,  and  chiefly  against  those  that  have  shed  innocent  blood 
from  the  beginning ;  and  saith,  "That  the  earth  shall  disclose  her 
blood,  and  shall  no  more  hide  her  slain  men." 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OF    KINGLY    POWER.     225 

If  tyrants  of  tlie  earth,  and  sucli  as  deliglit  in  the  shedding  of 
blood,  should  be  persuaded  that  this  sentence  is  true,  they  would 
not  so  furiously  come  to  their  own  destruction ;  for  what  man  can 
be  so  enraged  that  he  w^ould  willingly  do,  even  before  the  eyes  of 
God,  that  which  might  provoke  His  Majesty  to  anger,  yea,  provoke 
Him  to  become  his  enemy  forever,  if  he  understood  how  fearful  a, 
thing  it  is  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  Grod  ? 

The  cause,  then,  of  this  blind  fury  of  the  world  is  the  ignorance 
of  God,  and  that  men  think  that  God  is  but  an  idol ; '  and  that  there 
is  no  knowledge  above  that  beholds  their  tyranny;  nor  yet  justice 
that  will,  nor  power  that  can,  repress  their  impiety.  But  the  Spirit 
of  truth  witnesses  the  contrary,  af&rming,  that  as  the  eyes  of  the 
Lord  are  upon  the  just,  and  as  His  ears  are  ready  to  receive  their 
sobbing  and  prayers,  so  is  His  visage  angry  against  such  as  work 
iniquity ;  He  hateth  and  holdeth  in  abomination  every  deceitful  and 
blood-thirsty  man,  whereof  He  has  given  sufficient  document  from 
age  to  age,  in  preserving  the  one,  or  at  least  in  avenging  their  cause, 
and  in  punishing  the  other. 

Where  it  is  said,  "  That  the  Lord  will  come  from  His  place,  and 
that  He  will  visit  the  iniquity  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  upon 
them,  and  that  the  earth  shall  disclose  her  blood;"  we  have  to  con- 
sider, what  most  commonly  has  been,  and  what  shall  be,  the  condi- 
tion of  the  Church  of  God,  namely,  that  it  is  not  only  hated,  mocked, 
and  despised,  but  that  it  is  exposed  as  a  prey  unto  the  fury  of  the 
wicked ;  so  that  the  blood  of  the  children  of  God  is  spilled  like  unto 
water  upon  the  face  of  the  earth. 

The  understanding  whereof,  albeit  it  is  unpleasant  to  the  flesh, 
yet  to  us  it  is  most  profitable,  lest  that  we,  seeing  the  cruel  treat- 
ment of  God's  servants,  begin  to  forsake  the  spouse  of  Jesus  Christ, 
because  she  is  not  to  dealt  with  in  this  unthankful  world,  as  the 
just  and  upright  dealings  of  God's  children  do  deserve.  But  con- 
trariwise, for  mercy  they  receive  cruelty,  for  doing  good  to  many, 
of  all  the  reprobate  they  receive  evil ;  and  this  is  decreed  in  God's 
eternal  counsel,  that  the  members  may  follow  the  trace  of  the  Head ; 
to  the  end  that  God  in  His  just  judgment  should  finally  condemn 
the  wacked.  For  how  should  He  punish  the  inhabitants  of  the 
earth,  if  their  iniquity  deserved  it  not  ?  How  should  the  earth  dis- 
close our  blood,  if  it  should  not  be  unjustly  spilled  ?  We  must  then 
commit  ourselves  into  the  hands  of  our  God,  and  lay  down  our 
necks ;  yea,  and  patiently  suffer  our  blood  to  be  shed,  that  the  right- 
eous Judge  may  require  account,  as  most  assuredly  He  will,  of  all 
the  blood  that  hath  been  shed,  from  the  blood  of  Abel  the  just,  till 

15 


226  ■  JOHN    KNOX. 

the  day  that  tlie  eartli  sliall  disclose  the  same.  I  say,  every  one  that 
sheds,  or  consents  to  shed  the  blood  of  God's  children,  shall  be 
guilty  of  the  whole ;  so  that  all  the  blood  of  God's  children  shall 
-cry  vengeance,  not  only  in  general,  but  also  in  particular,  upon 
every  one  that  has  shed  the  blood  of  any  that  unjustly  suffered. 

And  if  any  think  it  strange  that  such  as  live  this  day  can  be 
guilty  of  the  blood  that  was  shed  in  the  days  of  the  Apostles,  let 
them  consider  that  the  Verity  itself  pronounced.  That  all  the  blood 
that  was  shed  from  the  days  of  Abel,  unto  the  days  of  Zacharias, 
should  come  upon  the  unthankful  generation  that  heard  His  doc- 
trine and  refused  it. 

The  reason  is  evident ;  for  as  there  are  two  heads  and  captains 
that  rule  over  the  whole  world,  nameh',  Jesus  Christ,  the  Prince  of 
justice  and  peace,  and  Satan,  called  the  prince  of  the  world ;  so  there 
are  but  two  armies  that  have  continued  battle  from  the  beginning, 
and  shall  fight  unto  the  end.  The  quarrel  which  the  army  of  Jesus 
Christ  sustains,  and  which  the  reprobate  persecute,  is  the  same,  namely, 
The  eternal  truth  of  the  eternal  God,  and  the  image  of  Jesus  Christ 
printed  in  his  elect — so  that  whosoever,  in  any  age,  persecutes  any  one 
member  of  Jesus  Christ  for  his  truth's  sake,  subscribes,  as  it  were 
with  his  hand,  to  the  persecution  of  all  that  have  passed  before  him. 

And  this  ought  the  tyrants  of  this  age  deeply  to  consider ;  for 
they  shall  be  guilty,  not  only  of  the  blood  shed  by  themselves,  but 
of  all,  as  is  said,  that  has  been  shed  for  the  cause  of  Jesus  Christ 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world. 

Let  the  faithful  not  be  discouraged,  although  they  be  appointed 
as  sheep  to  the  slaughter-house  ;  for  He,  for  whose  sake  they  suffer, 
shall  not  forget  to  avenge  their  cause.  I  am  not  ignorant  that  flesh 
and  blood  will  think  that  kind  of  support  too  late  ;  for  we  had  rather 
be  preserved  still  alive,  than  have  our  blood  avenged  after  our  death. 
And  truly,  if  our  felicity  stood  in  this  life,  or  if  temporal  death 
should  bring  unto  us  any  damage,  our  desire  in  that  behalf  were  not 
to  be  disallowed  or  condemned  :  but  seeing  that  death  is  common  to 
all,  and  that  this  temporal  life  is  nothing  but  misery,  and  that  death 
fully  joins  us  with  our  God,  and  gives  unto  us  the  possession  of  our 
inheritance,  why  should  we  think  it  strange  to  leave  this  world,  and 
go  to  our  Head  and  sovereign  Captain,  Jesus  Christ  ? 

Lastly,  We  have  to  observe  this  manner  of  speaking,  where  the 
prophet  saith  that  "  the  earth  shall  disclose  her  blood  :"  in  which 
words  the  prophet  would  accuse  the  cruelty  of  those  that  dare  so 
unmercifully  and  violently  force,  from  the  breasts  of  the  earth,  the 
dearest  children  of  God,  and  cruelly  cut  their  throats  in  her  bosom, 


THE    SOURCE    AND    BOUNDS    OF    KINGLY    POWER    227 

■who  is  by  God  ai^pointed  tlic  common  mother  of  mankind,  so  that 
she  imwiUingly  is  compelled  to  open  her  mouth  and  receive  their 
blood. 

If  such  tyranny  were  used  against  any  woman,  as  violently  to 
pull  her  infant  from  her  breasts,  cut  the  throat  of  it  in  her  own  bo- 
som, and  compel  her  to  receive  the  blood  of  her  dear  child  in  her 
own  mouth,  all  nations  would  hold  the  act  so  abominable  that  the 
like  had  never  been  done  in  the  course  of  nature.  No  less  wicked- 
ness commit  they  that  shed  the  blood  of  God's  children  upon  the 
face  of  their  common  mother,  the  earth,  as  I  said  before.  But  be  of 
good  courage,  0  little  and  despised  flock  of  Christ  Jesus !  for  He  that 
seeth  your  grief,  hath  power  to  revenge  it ;  He  will  not  suffer  one 
tear  of  yours  to  fall,  but  it  shall  be  kept  and  reserved  in  His  bottle, 
till  the  fullness  thereof  be  poured  down  from  heaven,  upon  those  that 
caused  you  to  weep  and  mourn.  This  your  merciful  God,  I  say,  will 
not  suffer  your  blood  forever  to  be  covered  with  the  earth  ;  nay, 
the  flaming  fires  that  have  licked  up  the  blood  of  any  of  our  breth- 
ren ;  the  earth  that  has  been  defiled  with  it,  I  say,  with  the  blood  of 
God's  children,  (for  otherwise,  to  shed  the  blood  of  the  cruel  blood- 
shedders,  is  to  purge  the  land  from  blood,  and  as  it  were  to  sanctify 
it)  the  earth,  I  say,  shall  purge  herself  of  it,  and  show  it  before  the 
face  of  God.  Yea,  the  beasts,  fowls,  and  other  creatures  whatsoever, 
shall  be  compelled  to  render  that  which  they  have  received,  be  it 
flesh,  blood,  or  bones,  that  appertained  to  Thy  children,  0  Lord ! 
which  altogether  Thou  shalt  glorify,  according  to  Thy  promise,  made 
to  us  in  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  Thy  well-beloved  Son  ; 
to  whom,  with  Thee,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  be  honor,  praise,  and  glory 
forever  and  ever.     Amen. 

Let  us  now  humble  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  our  God,  and 
from  the  bottom  of  our  hearts  let  us  desire  Him  to  assist  us  with  the 
power  of  His  Holy  Spirit ;  that  albeit,  for  our  former  negligence, 
God  gives  us  over  into  the  hands  of  others  than  such  as  rule  in  His 
fear ;  that  yet  He  let  us  not  forget  His  mercy,  and  the  glorious  name 
that  hath  been  proclaimed  among  us  ;  but  that  we  may  look  through 
the  dolorous  storm  of  His  present  displeasure,  and  see  as  well  what 
punishment  He  has  appointed  for  the  cruel  tyrants,  as  what  reward 
He  has  laid  in  store  for  such  as  continue  in  His  fear  to  the  end.  That 
it  would  further  please  Him  to  assist,  that  albeit  we  see  His  Church 
so  diminished,  that  it  appears  to  be  brought,  as  it  were,  to  utter  ex- 
termination, we  may  be  assured  that  in  our  God  there  is  great  power 
and  will,  to  increase  the  number  of  His  chosen,  until  they  are  en- 
larged to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth.     Give  us,  0  Lord  I  hearts 


228  JOHN    KNOX. 

to  visit  Tbee  in  time  of  affliction ;  and  albeit  we  see  no  end  of  onr 
dolors,  yet  our  faith  and  liope  may  conduct  us  to  tlie  assured  liope 
of  that  joyful  resurrection,  in  which  we  shall  possess  the  fruit  of  that 
for  which  we  now  labor.  In  the  mean  time,  grant  unto  us,  O  Lord ! 
to  repose  ourselves  in  the  sanctuary  of  Thy  promise,  that  in  Thee 
we  may  find  comfort,  till  this  Thy  great  indignation,  begun  among 
us,  may  j)ass  over,  and  Thou  Thyself  appear  to  the  comfort  of  Thine 
afflicted,  and  to  the  terror  of  Thine  and  our  enemies. 

Let  us  pray  with  heart  and  mouth, 

Almighty  God,  and  merciful  Father,  etc.  Lord,  unto  Thy  hands 
I  commend  my  spirit ;  for  the  terrible  roaring  of  guns,*  and  the  noise 
of  armor,  do  so  pierce  my  heart,  that  my  soul  thirsteth  to  depart. 

*  The  Castle  of  Edinburgh  was  shootmg  against  the  exiled  for  Christ  Jesus'  sake. 


DISCOURSE    FIFTY-SEVENTH. 

RALPH     ERSKINE. 

The  name  of  Erskine  is  highly  distingmshed  among  the  Scottish 
divines ;  there  having  been  three  prominent  clergymen  bearing  this 
cognomen.  Ralph,  the  brother  of  Ebenezer,  the  most  eloquent  preacher 
of  the  three,  was  born  at  the  village  of  Monilaws,  in  Northumberland 
county,  March  15,  1685.  He  entered  the  University  of  Edinburg  in 
1699,  and  commenced  the  study  of  diA^nity  in  1704.  Five  years  later 
he  was  licensed  to  preach,  and  in  1711  ordained  to  the  charge  of  Dim- 
fermline.  In  the  unhappy  secession  as  to  the  "  Marrow  Controversy," 
and  other  matters  of  diiference  of  opinion,  Erskine  went  out  of  the 
established  church,  with  his  brother  Ebenezer  and  others,  and  ui  1740, 
for  so  doing,  was  formally  cut  off  from  that  body.  He  nevertheless 
continued  his  useful  ministry;  and  died  on  the  6th  of  November,  1752, 
his  last  words  being,  "  Victory,  victory,  victory!" 

Mr.  Erskine  was  eminent  as  a  preacher,  possessing,  beside  his  mental 
accomplishments,  "  a  pleasant  voice,  an  agreeable  manner,  and  a  warm, 
pathetic  address."  In  literary  attainments  he  was  far  superior  to  most 
of  the  Scottish  clergy  of  his  day.  His  numerous  and  diversified  publi- 
cations show  him  to  have  possessed  acuteness  of  thought,  energy  of  ex- 
]3ression,  and  a  rich,  glowing  fancy.  His  "  Gospel  Sonnets"  are  well 
kno^Ti.  Several  editions  of  his  Sermons  have  appeared.  His  best  dis- 
courses are  those  preached  on  sacramental  occasions.  That  here  given 
is  the  main  part  of  one  of  six  sermons  on  the  same  text,  with  a  great 
number  of  heads,  doctrines,  uses,  ap2:>Ucations,  and  exhortatio7is.  It 
is  in  the  author's  best  style,  and  bears  date  of  June,  1725.  He  is  here 
showing  the  qualities  of  the  act  described. 


THE  GATHERIISra  OF  THE  PEOPLE  TO  SHILOH. 

"  The  scepter  shall  not  depart  from  Judah,  nor  the  lawgiver  from  between  his  feet,  un- 
til Shiloh  come  ;  and  unto  Him  shaU  the  gathering  of  the  people  be." — Gen,  xlix.  10. 

In  this  gathering  unto  Shiloh,  the  soul  acts  believingly  ;  and  all 
the  other  qualities  of  this  gathering  are  reducible  to  this,  and  are  so 


230  RALPH    ERSKINE. 

many  ways,  wlierein  faith  acts,  in  coming  and  gathering  to  Christ; 
or  how,  being  acted  they  act :  and  here  is  matter  for  trial ;  particu- 
larly then, 

1.  In  this  active  gathering  unto  Shiloh,  people  are  made  to  act 
spiritually,  for  it  is  a  spiritual  gathering,  under  the  conduct  of  the 
Spirit  of  God,  as  a  spirit  of  faith,  making  the  soul  to  gather  under 
the  wings  of  Christ  the  Messias.  It  is  not  by  natural  might,  but  by 
the  power  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  that  sinners  gather  to  a  Saviour : 
"  Not  by  might,  nor  by  power,  but  by  my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord ;" 
"  even  the  exceeding  greatness  of  His  Almighty  power."  There  is 
a  spiritual  internal  principle,  from  which  the  man  acts,  in  his  gather- 
ing to  Shiloh,  even  the  Spirit  of  God  as  the  main,  and  the  new  heart 
as  the  subordinate  principle  of  faith  in  the  man.  It  is  not  the  Spirit's 
working  extrinsically  upon  the  man ;  hypocrites  may  have  the  Spirit 
working  on  them  extrinsically,  to  the  production  of  great  affections 
and  enlargement,  while  they  are  not  savingly  gathered  :  but  this  spirit- 
ual act  is  from  a  spiritual  principle,  whereof  the  Spirit  of  God  within 
is  the  spring.  The  former  is  but  a  natural  acting  by  some  external 
objects,  it  is  like  a  pool  fed  by  water  from  the  clouds  ;  the  other  is 
like  a  well  fed  by  a  spring  within. 

Quest.  How  shall  I  know  the  difference  betwixt  these  two,  viz., 
the  Spirit's  working  on  me  by  His  common  motions,  and  His  work- 
ing in  me  as  a  living  principle  ?  Why,  the  common  motions  of  the 
Spirit,  externally  moving  the  affections,  differ  from  the  saving  opera- 
tions of  the  Spirit  internally  elevating  the  soul  to  a  God  in  Christ,  as 
a  land-flood  differs  from  a  living  spring  ;  the  land-flood  is  maintained 
externally  by  the  clouds,  the  living  fountain  is  maintained  internally 
by  its  own  spring  :  thus  the  hypocrite's  frames  and  affections  are 
maintained  only  by  external  means  and  objects,  such  as  the  tuneable 
voice  of  the  minister ;  so  Ezekiel  was  to  his  hearers  as  "  a  very  lovely 
song  of  one  that  hath  a  pleasant  voice,  and  can  play  well  on  an  in- 
strument," and  when  the  external  object  or  excitement  is  over,  then 
their  frame  and  affection  falls,  because  the  only  thing  that  maintained 
it  is  gone  :  whereas,  in  the  spiritual  acting  of  the  soul  that  is  gather- 
ing to  Shiloh,  though  faith  comes  by  hearing  externally,  yet  the 
Spirit  of  God  being  received  by  the  hearing  of  faith,  this  internal 
principle  of  spiritual  life  does  many  times  animate  the  soul  to  spirit- 
ual work,  when  all  external  objects  and  operations  fail ;  and  this  may 
be  known,  just  as  a  spring-well  is  known  by  the  bubbling  up  of  the 
water.  Thus  is  the  Spirit's  inhabitation  known  by  the  actings  of  the 
graces  of  the  Spirit,  such  as  faith,  love,  repentance,  joy  in  the  Lord, 
and  the  hke. 


THE    GATHERING    OP    THE    PEOPLE    TO    SHILGH.      231 

2.,  In  gathering  to  ShiloTi  people  are  made  to  act  knowingly  and 
judicially^  under  the  influences  of  the  Spirit,  as  a  spirit  of  light ;  and 
to  act  as  in  a  matter  of  the  greatest  concern,  with  judgment  and  un- 
derstanding, saying,  as  John,  "To  whom  shall  we  go?  Thou  hast 
the  words  of  eternal  life.  We  beheve  and  are  sure  that  Thou  art 
Christ  the  Son  of  the  living  God."  Many  gather  together  in  a  con- 
fused way,  and  know  not  wherefore  they  meet  together ;  but  this 
gathering  includes  knowledge,  and  saving  spiritual  illumination : 
"  They  that  know  Thy  name  will  put  their  trust  in  Thee."  They 
that  know  Him  will  gather  to  Him  ;  there  must  be  a  seeing  of  the 
Son,  before  there  can  be  a  believing  in  Him,  or  gathering  to  Him. 
Many,  instead  of  gathering  to  Christ,  they  gather  to  an  idol  of  their 
own  fancy  ;  when  they  hear  of  Christ,  their  idolatrous  carnal  mind 
represents  a  carnal  image  of  Christ  in  their  own  brain  :  As  those 
that  are  said  to  have  made  idols  according  to  their  own  understand- 
ing, so  many  in  their  own  imagination  form  an  idea  of  Christ ;  and 
this  idea  or  image  of  Christy  that  they  have  in  their  own  mind,  is  all 
that  they  have  for  Christ.  But,  0  sirs,  when  Christ  is  externally  re- 
vealed in  the  Gospel,  there  must  be  a  marvelous  light  discovering 
Him  in  Himself,  making  Him  known,  though  not  perfectly,  yet 
really  and  truly  as  He  is ;  not  only  as  He  is  man,  but  as  God-man, 
having  all  the  fullness  of  the  Godhead  in  Him,  and  all  the  glory  of 
God  appearing  in  His  face,  so  as  the  soul  can  not  but  cleave  and  ad- 
here to  Him.  A  painted  sun  will  neither  give  light  nor  heat,  but  the 
real  sun  gives  both  :  so  a  painted  image  and  representation  of  Christ 
in  the  imagination  gives  no  spiritual  light,  heat,  nor  communicates 
any  transforming  virtue  ;  but  the  true  Son  of  Eighteousness  ariseth 
with  healing  under  His  wings.  It  is  true,  this  light  is  not  without 
mists  and  smoke,  sent  forth  from  the  bottomless  pit,  to  darken  all ; 
but  yet  there  is  such  a  clear  discovery  of  the  man's  inability,  of 
God's  gracious  offer,  and  Christ's  good  will  and  mind  to  the  bargain,, 
as  determines  the  soul  to  its  Deity.         *         *         ■»         -x- 

8.  In  gathering  to  Shiloh,  the  people  that  are  brought  to  Him 
are  made  to  act  evangelically  or  to  believe,  in  a  Gospel  manner,  to 
receive  and  rest  upon  Him,  as  He  is  offered  to  us  in  the  Gospel. 
There  is  a  Gospel-ground  on  which  the  people  do  gather :  legal  faith 
acts  upon  a  legal  ground,  such  as  inherent  strength  and  natural 
righteousness ;  but  true  faith  acts  upon  the  ground  of  a  borrowed 
strength,  and  an  imputed  righteousness  of  another,  saying,  "  Surely 
in  the  Lord  only  have  I  righteousness  and  strength."  This  gather- 
ing to  Shiloh  is  a  self-renouncing  business,  stripping  the  man  of  his 
own  righteousness,  of  his  own  strength,  taking  him  entirely  off  his. 


232  RALPH    ERSKINE. 

own  bottom;  they  that  are  gathered  to  Christ,  are  gathered  out  of 
themselves.  There  is  a  Grospel-rule  also,  whereby  they  gather,  in  a 
suitableness  to  the  Gospel-ofFer  and  dispensation.  "So  we  preach, 
and  so  ye  believed,"  Faith  answers  the  Gospel-call,  as  the  impress 
upon  the  wax  does  answer  the  engravings  of  the  seal ;  so  Christ 
offers  Himself,  and  so  sinners  gather  to  Him,  and  believe  in  Him  for 
wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and  redemption.  Hence  again, 
there  is  a  Gospel-order,  wherein  the  gathering  of  the  people  is  to 
Him ;  the  soul,  in  coming  to  Him,  receives  first  the  person,  and  then 
the  portion ;  even  as  God  gives  Christ,  and  then  with  Him  all  things. 
The  people  gather  to  Him,  in  a  day  of  Power,  first^  as  a  Jesus,  and 
then.,  as  a  Lord;  first,  for  justification,  and  /Aen,  for  sanctification. 
Legal  adventures  invert  this  Gospel-order,  seeking  sanctification 
first,  that  upon  that  bottom  it  may  build  its  justification;  seeking 
righteousness,  "  as  it  were,  by  the  works  of  the  law,"  And  however 
confused  and  indistinct  the  true  believer's  faith  may  be,  in  his  first 
believing,  yet  repeated  acts  of  faith  may  afterward  make  it  more  and 
more  evident  to  him  that  right  believing  is  in  the  foresaid  Gospel- 
order,  There  is  a  Gospel  warrant,  upon  which  this  gathering  pro- 
ceeds :  They  that  gather  to  Shiloh  act  warrantably,  upon  the  war- 
rant of  an  objective  sufiiciency ;  there  is  a  sufficient  Christ  presented : 
O,  the  sufiiciency  of  His  person,  being  God-man  in  one  person ;  the 
sufiiciency  of  His  ofiices  and  commission,  being  sealed  of  God  to 
be  a  surety,  a  Saviour,  a  prophet,  priest,  and  king ;  the  sufiiciency 
of  His  righteousness.  His  doing  and  dying,  His  obedience  and  satis- 
faction ;  the  sufficiency  of  His  power,  as  being  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost ;  the  sufficiency  of  His  will,  while  He  proclaims  His  good 
will  toward  men ;  and  that  God  is  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world 
to  Himself!  They  gather,  upon  the  warrant  of  a  general  Gospel- 
dispensation  of  grace  through  Christ,  in  the  external  revelation  of 
the  word,  where  the  elect  are  not  characterized  more  than  others, 
but  life  and  salvation  through  Christ  held  out  to  sinners  of  man- 
kind, without  distinction  of  nation,  state,  or  condition ;  and  so  in 
an  indefinite  way.  Thus  run  all  the  promises,  except  these  that  are 
m.ade  to  believers,  or  such  as  have  grace  already ;  to  them  indeed 
the  promises  are  definite,  so  also  they  are  definite  to  the  elect,  in  the 
decree  of  heaven ;  but  in  the  external  dispensation  of  the  Gospel, 
they  are  indefinite  and  general,  saying,  To  you  belong  the  Cove- 
nants and  the  promise ;  and  as  the  promise  is  indefinite,  so  the  call 
is  universal,  whether  by  exhortations,  invitation,  entreaties,  coun- 
sels, or  commands,  to  all  and  every  one,  to  come  and  receive  Christ, 
and  all  His  sure  mercies,  freely,  and  upon  these  Gospel- warrants  do 


THE    GATHERING    OF    THE    PEOPLE    TO    SHILOH.      233 

the  people  gather  to  Shiloh.  In  a  word,  the  whole  Covenant,  and 
all  the  promises  of  it,  are  held  forth  to  all  the  people,  that  they  may 
gather  to  it;  "I'll  give  thee  for  a  Covenant  of  the  people."  Hence 
we  are  said,  "  to  receive  the  promise  through  faith,  to  be  persuaded 
of  them;  and  embrace  them,"  and  the  faith  we  are  called  to,  is 
said  to  be  a  "  receiving  of  the  word,"  a  "  taking  hold  of  His  Cove- 
nant/' a  "believing  of  the  testimony."  Christ  can  not  be  received, 
but  as  He  is  offered ;  He  is  not  offered  to  us,  but  in  a  word,  a  promise, 
a  testimony:  hence  the  substantial  act  of  faith  being  an  assent, 
there  must  be  a  word,  promise,  or  testimony,  for  filth's  immediate 
object,  wherein  we  see  and  receive  Christ.  If  a  man  would  see  his 
shadow  in  a  glass,  he  first  looks  to  the  glass,  and  through  it  sees  his 
own  shadow  or  image ;  the  glass  is  the  immediate  object  to  which 
his  sight  is  directed ;  so,  in  order  to  our  seeing  of  Christ,  the  glass 
of  the  Gospel-promise  is  set  before  us.  Thus  a  displayed  Cove- 
nant of  grace,  as  standing  fast  in  Christ,  seems  to  be  the  warrant 
for  the  gathering  of  the  people  to  Shiloh.  "Come  and  let  us 
join  ourselves  to  the  Lord,  in  a  perpetual  Covenant  (says  our  read- 
ing) that  shall  not  be  forgotten  :"  I  know  this  is  viewed,  by  some, 
in  another  sense,  with  reference  to  our  covenanting ;  but  I  think  the 
original  reading  that  others  notice  is  very  j^leasant  and  evangelical, 
for  it  may  be  read,  "  Come  and  let  us  join  ourselves  to  the  Lord,  the 
perpetual  Covenant  shall  not  be  forgotten,"  q.  d,  Come  and  let  us 
gather  together  unto  Shiloh ;  why,  the  everlasting  Covenant,  that 
stands  fost  in  him,  who  is  the  All  of  the  Covenant,  shall  never  be 
forgotten :  and  so  it  may  be  viewed,  as  an  encouragement  of  faith, 
and  reason  for  the  gathering  of  the  people  to  Him;  behold 
He  is  given  for  a  Covenant  of  the  people,  and  this  perpetual 
Covenant  shall  not  be  forgotten.  Thus  they  are  made  to  act  evan- 
gelically. 

4.  In  gathering  to  Shiloh,  the  people  that  are  brought  to  Him 
are  made  to  act  cordially  and  spontaneously,  with  heart  and  will ; 
yea,  with  a  thousand  good  wills  ;  "  0  take  my  heart,"  says  the  man, 
in  the  day  of  power,  "take  it,  and  a  thousand  blessings  with  it." 
It  is  true,  there  is  no  gathering,  no  approaching  to  Him,  without  a 
draught  of  Omnipotency ;  yet  there  is  no  violence  in  it,  no  force  or 
compulsion,  but  when  power  comes,  it  takes  away  the  backward- 
ness and  unwillingness.  "  Thy  people  shall  be  willing."  Never  did 
a  mariner  draw  near  to  a  shore  with  better  will,  after  shipwreck, 
than  the  soul  comes  to  Christ,  in  the  day  of  power ;  the  person 
being  drawn,  yields  necessarily  and  willingly  both :  Draw  me,  we 
will  run  after  Thee ;  Draw  me,  there  is  the  Almighty  power  ex- 


234  RALPH    ERSKINE. 

erted,  in  its  irresistible  operation;  we  ivill  run,  tliere  is  jtLe  volun- 
tary motion  of  the  soul :  so  tliat  this  gathering  does  not  destroy, 
but  establish  the  liberty  of  the  will  of  the  rational  agent,  Eeason 
is  not  hoodwinked,  the  person  approaches  to  a  God  in  Christ,  upon 
the  most  rational  grounds,  seeing  and  apprehending  His  misery  while 
far  from  God,  and  the  happiness  of  nearness  to  Him  in  Christ.  And 
this  gathering  is  as  cordial  as  it  is  voluntary  ;  as  the  will  is  inclined, 
so  the  heart  is  inflamed.  Hypocrites  may  gather  to  ordinances,  and 
gather  to  a  communion-table  with  the  outward  man  ;  they  may  draw 
near  to  God  with  the  mouth,  and  honor  Him  with  the  lip,  while  the 
heart  is  far  removed  from  Him.  This  is  what  God  complains  of, 
"  Their  heart  is  far  from  Me :"  But  what  do  I  regard  a  gathering  of 
dead  corpses  about  My  table  and  ordinances,  a  gathering  of  bodies, 
while  there  is  no  gathering  of  hearts  ?  But  in  this  gracious  gather- 
ing, the  language  of  the  soul  is,  O,  many  a  time  I  have  given  my 
heart  away  to  the  devil ;  I  gave  my  heart  and  affections  away  to 
lusts ;  I  gave  my  heart  away  to  the  world ;  and  now,  shall  I  give 
Christ  less  than  I  gave  them  ?  It  will  be  a  miracle  if  He  accept  of 
it,  after  my  manifold  departures ;  but  O,  if  I  had  as  many  souls  as  I 
had  sins,  I  would  give  them  to  Him  !  0,  if  I  could  believe  in  Him 
with  the  whole  heart,  pray  to  Him  with  the  whole  heart,  serve  Him 
wath  the  whole  heart ;  and  that  all  my  affections,  that  have  been 
struggling  among  the  creatures,  may  be  gathered  to  Him,  and  cen- 
tered in  Him  !  Yea,  in  the  day  of  power,  a  man  finds  himself  so 
willingly  and  freely  to  come  to  Christ,  that  he  is  rolled  upon  Him,  as 
if  He  were  carried  on  a  wave  of  the  sea,  or  rather  in  a  chariot  paved 
with  love :  formerly  he  found  believing  hard,  yea,  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  come  to  Christ ;  but  now  he  finds  it  impossible 
for  him  to  stay  away  from  Christ :  believing  is  so  sweet  and  easy 
then,  that,  as  if  he  had  wings,  he  flees  for  refuge  to  the  hope  set  be- 
fore him.  Though,  as  a  great  divine  (viz.,  Dr.  Owen)  expresses  it, 
faith  is  in  the  understanding,  in  respect  of  its  being  and  subsist- 
ence ;  yet  it  is  in  the  will  and  heart,  in  respect  of  its  effectual  work- 
ing :  as  to  its  essence,  it  lies  in  assent,  but  the  saving  quality  of  this 
assent  is,  that  it  is  cordial ;  and  it  is  not  true  faith,  if  it  be  not  a  cor- 
dial assent  to  God's  testimony  concerning  Christ.  And  indeed  there 
is  a  great  difference  betwixt  a  dead  assent,  and  a  cordial  hearty  as- 
sent to  any  truth :  suppose  (says  one)  you  were  in  a  foreign  land, 
and  that  you  got  a  sure  account  that  the  Turks  have  got  a  victory 
over  the  Persians  ;  and  at  the  same  time  you  hear  that  your  beloved 
spouse  is  recovered  of  a  dangerous  disease,  that  all  your  family  is 
well,  and  your  affairs  prosper :  there  is  a  great  difference  betwixt 


THE    GATHERING    OF    THE    PEOPLE    TO    SHILOH.      235 

the  way  of  assenting  to  these  two ;  you  believe  the  former,  but  it 
hath  no  impression  on  your  heart,  it  is  only  a  naked,  heartless,  un- 
concerned assent ;  but  you  would  believe  the  other  cordially  and 
gladly,  because  you  are  much  concerned  therein :  hence  you  would 
welcome  the  messenger.  Thus  the  Gospel  is  not  only  a  faithful  say- 
ing, but  worthy  of  all  acceptation ;  and  in  gathering  to  Christ,  in 
the  day  of  power,  the  soul  acts  cordially. 

5.  In  this  gathering  of  the  people  to  Shiloh,  they  are  made  to 
act  humbly  and  reverentially;  the  man  comes  with  a  "What  am  I, 
and  what  is  my  father's  house  ?"  Behold  I  am  vile,  and  if  the  Lord 
shall  have  mercy  on  me,  it  is  well,  grace  shall  have  the  glory ;  but 
if  not,  I  may  even  preach  His  righteousness  in  hell,  and  declare  He 
never  wronged  me,  He  is  a  just  God.  O  the  soul  acts  humbly  in  the 
day  of  powerful  gathering,  "  That  thou  may  est  remember,  and  be 
confounded,  and  never  open  thy  mouth,  because  of  thy  shame,  when 
I  am  pacified  toward  thee  for  all  that  thou  hast  done,"  O  but  a  soul 
convinced  of  its  own  unworthiness  and  desert  of  hell,  and  that  scarce 
can  exj^ect  any  thing  but  utter  damnation,  how  does  the  first  dawn- 
ing of  mercy  melt  and  humble  it !  O  whence  is  this  to  such  a  worm 
as  I!  He  stands  behind  Christ  weeping,  and  washing  His  feet  with 
tears.  When  one  of  the  first  works  of  the  Spirit  in  conversion,  is  to 
give  the  soul  a  light  in  its  hand,  to  go  down  to  the  dark  cellars  of 
his  heart  and  make  discoveries,  so  as  he  stands  amazed,  trembling  at 
the  sight  of  himself,  and  the  next  work  of  the  Spirit  is  to  lead  him 
to  the  lightsome  chamber  of  the  King  of  glory,  to  bring  him  from 
darkness  to  light,  0  how  is  he  melted  with  a  sense  of  mercy,  and 
humbled  with  a  sense  of  his  own  monstrous  vileness !  "Now  mine 
eyes  see  Thee,  wherefore  I  abhor  myself."  0  in  such  a  day,  the  man 
sees  his  heart  vile,  his  lips  vile,  his  practice  vile,  his  righteousness 
vile  and  filthy  rags ;  he  sees  in  his  bosom,  as  it  were,  an  hell  of  dev- 
ils and  unclean  spirits,  that  when  he  thinks  on  himself  it  makes  him 
loathe  and  scunner,  as  it  were,  like  a  man  ready  to  bock  or  vomit 
when  he  sees  some  filthy  thing,  especially  among  his  meat ;  or  as  a 
man's  flesh  will  creep  when  he  sees  some  filthy  venomous  toad 
or  viper  ;  so  it  is  with  these  that  see  themselves  in  the  Lord's  light, 
in  the  day  of  their  gathering  to  Shiloh.  They  that  were  never  hum- 
bled, were  never  gathered,  and  they  that  have  been  deeply  humbled, 
have  come  to  God  with  ropes  about  their  necks,  as  worthy  to  be  cast 
over  the  gibbet,  and  hanged  over  the  fire  of  God's  everlasting  ven- 
geance ;  they  have  been  humbled  to  the  dust,  yea,  humbled  to  noth- 
ing before  the  Lord,  and  to  a  thousand  times  less  and  worse  than 
nothing ;  yea,  they  can  not  see  such  vile  monsters  among  all  the 


236  RALPH    ERSKINE. 

devils  in  hell  as  themselves ;  they  come,  therefore,  with  humility, 
reverence,  and  godly  fear. 

6.  In  this  gathering  of  the  people  to  Shiloh,  under  the  influence 
of  gathering  power  and  grace,  they  are  made  to  act  boldly^  though 
humbly,  "  Let  us  come  boldly  to  the  throne  of  grace."  "  We 
have  boldness  to  enter  into  the  holiest  by  the  blood  of  Jesus."  "  In 
■whom  we  have  boldness,  and  access  with  confidence,  by  the  faith  of 
Him,"  Here  is  the  boldness  of  Faith  in  opposition  to  the  boldness 
of  presumption.  Bold  faith  comes  walking  on  a  sea  of  blood,  or 
rather  upon  the  red  and  white  pavement  of  the  active  and  passive 
obedience  of  Christ.  This  boldness  of  faith's  approach  to  a  God  in 
Christ  is  remarkable  for  several  things : — it  is  remarkable  for  the 
vehemency  that  is  sometimes  in  it ;  0  how  vehemently  does  the  soul 
act  when  it  is  laying  siege  to  heaven,  by  the  prayer  of  faith  and  im- 
portunate supplication,  crying,  "  Lord,  I  believe,  help  my  unbelief;" 
Lord,  increase  my  faith  ;  Lord,  give  a  drink  of  the  water  of  the  well 
of  Bethlehem !  0  for  a  drop  of  the  precious  blood  of  the  Lamb !  0 
man,  woman,  where  are  the  bedsides  and  secret  corners  that  can  bear 
witness  to  your  besieging  heaven  with  your  vehement  cries  ?  It  is 
remarkable  for  the  violence  that  is  in  it ;  "  The  kingdom  of  heaven 
suffers  violence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force."  The  man  acts  as 
it  were  violently ;  "If  I  perish,  I  perish,"  at  Christ  I  must  be.  It 
acts  in  a  manner  willfully ;  "  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust 
in  Him ;  I  will  not  let  Thee  go,  except  Thou  bless  me."  The  soul, 
as  it  were,  violently  casts  itself  upon  the  free  grace  and  faithfulness 
of  God,  in  the  greatest  distress ;  and  here  it  lies,  as  it  were,  at 
anchor  in  such  stormy  days.  It  is  remarkable  for  the  confidence 
that  is  in  it :  it  hath  the  confidence  to  give  God  a  testimonial,  as  it 
were ;  when  fiiith  is  acted,  not  only  does  God  give  the  man  a  testi- 
monial, "  Enoch  had  this  testimony,  that  he  pleased  God ;  but  with- 
out Faith  it  is  impossible  to  please  Him;"  but  what  is  yet  more 
strange,  faith  not  only  gets  a  testimonial  from  God,  but  gives  a  testi- 
monial to  Him,  "  He  that  hath  received  his  testimony  hath  set  to  his 
seal  that  God  is  true."  Here  is  the  confidence  and  assurance  of 
faith  ;  it  acts  upon  an  infallible  testimony  of  the  Divine  veracity  and 
faithfulness ;  a  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord,"  is  the  firm  foundation  upon 
which  faith  is  built.  It  is  a  receiving  the  record  of  God ;  and  all 
acts  of  faith  without  this,  are  but  as  so  many  arrows  shot  at  random  in 
the  open  air.  Many  a  confident  address  does  faith  make ;  it  ventures 
to  go  as  far  ben,  as  "  the  Holy  of  holies,  by  the  blood  of  Jesus  ;"  it 
ventures  the  soul  upon  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  upon  the 
promise  of  a  God  in  Christ :  here  is  the  boldness  of  faith.     To  gather 


THE    GATHERING    OF    THE    PEOPLE    TO    SHILOH.      237 

in  to  SliiloL.  and  believe  in  Him,  is  in  effect  to  say,  I  adventure  my 
soul  upon  nothing  in  the  world,  but  upon  the  promise  of  a  God  that 
I  have  provoked,  and  been  an  enemy  to  all  my  days ;  I  have  noth- 
ing but  the  word  of  this  God,  and  yet  I  must  adventure  upon  it 
even  my  everlasting  all.  It  is  an  adventuring  act,  like  Peter  upon 
the  boisterous  water,  with  this  in  his  mouth  and  heart,  "  Master,  save 
me."  To  venture  upon  the  promise  of  a  provoked  God,  and  to 
believe  Him  to  be  a  God  in  Christ  reconciled  according  to  His  word, 
"upon  account  of  the  ransom  He  hath  found  out,  and  the  propitiation 
He  hath  set  forth :  here  is  the  boldness  of  faith.  And  aQ;ain,  it  is 
remarkable  for  its  resoluteness  ;  the  person,  like  the  woman  with  the 
bloody  issue,  presses  resolutely  through  crowds  of  devils  and  lusts, 
and  with  an  irresistible  intenseness  of  soul,  forces  a  passage  through 
all  obstructions,  to  get  a  touch  of  the  scepter  of  King  Jesus.  We  are 
called  to  "come  with  full  assurance  of  faith,"  with  a  holy  resolution 
and  courage.  When  a  poor  trembling  Roman  approached  the  Em- 
peror Augustus,  he  was  in  some  fear:  "What,"  says  the  Emperor, 
"  take  you  me  for  an  elephant  that  will  tear  you  ?"  So  we  should 
come  with  boldness  to  Christ.  He  encourages  the  worst  of  sinners ; 
He  hath  given  His  word  for  it,  which  is  firm  as  the  pillars  of  heaven 
and  earth,  and  stable  like  mountains  of  brass,  that  "him  that  cometh 
He  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  When  he  comes  at  first  He  will  not 
cast  him  out ;  when  he  comes  again  afterward,  He  will  not  cast  him 
out ;  he  will  not  cast  out  the  vilest  and  most  desperate  sinner  that 
comes  ;  He  will  not  cast  him  out  of  His  favor  now.  He  will  not  cast 
him  out  of  heaven  at  last ;  no,  no,  "  He  will  in  nowise  cast  him  out." 
We  may  gather  to  Shiloh,  and  come  with  the  greatest  boldness ;  and 
welcome,  welcome,  welcome  shall  we  be  forever.  In  a  word,  this 
boldness  is  remarkable  for  the  solemnity  that  is  in  it ;  it  is  a  solemn 
gathering :  the  people  that  gather  to  Shiloh  come  to  Him  with  a 
behold,  "  Behold,  we  come  unto  Thee ;  for  Thou  art  the  Lord  our 
God,"  The  heart  goes  out  with  some  kind  of  eminency  and  solem- 
nity: "Behold  we  come;"  let  heaven  and  earth  be  witnesses;  we 
take  instruments,  as  it  were,  in  every  angel's  hand,  in  every  crea- 
ture's hand,  in  every  spire  of  grass's  hand,  that  we  are  come  back  to 
a  God  in  Christ ;  we  are  satisfied  the  whole  universe  attest,  and 
behold  what  we  are  going  to  do ;  not  that  the  believer  loves  to  blaze 
abroad  his  religion  indecently — no,  it  is  esiDcciall}^  a  silent,  secret, 
heart-gathering  and  soul-approach  to  Shiloh ;  but  they  are  so  far 
from  being  ashamed  of  the  match,  and  so  well  pleased  are  they  with 
it,  that  they  are  content  it  be  registrate  in  heaven,  and  that  the  whole 


238  RALPH    ERSKINB. 

creation  attest  it;  "  Beliold  we  come !"     The  man  acts  witli  a  solemn 
boldness. 

The  qualities  of  this  penitential  approach  you  may  see.  And 
this  i^enitential  acting  of  faith  runs  through  the  -whole  of  the  be- 
liever's life  in  a  universal  tenderness  of  disposition  and  deportment, 
according  to  the  measure  of  faith  :  and  there  are  six  tender  things 
in  it  which  the  believer  hath.  1.  He  hath  a  tender  heart,  called  a 
broken  and  contrite  heart,  broken  for  sin  and  from  sin ;  Josiah's 
heart  was  tender.  2.  A  tender  conscience  ;  some  have  a  conscience 
seared  as  with  a  hot  iron,  and  that  is  a  silent  conscience ;  but  the 
penitent  hath  a  smitten  conscience,  as  David's  heart  smote  him,  when 
he  cut  off  the  loop  of  Saul's  garment.  3.  A  tender  eye :  "  They 
shall  look  on  Him  whom  they  have  pierced,  and  mourn  ;"  rivers  of 
tears  run  down  their  eyes,  because  of  their  own  sins,  and  the  sins  of 
others,  who  break  God's  law.  4.  A  tender  ear,  which  being  circum- 
cised, does  hear  and  fear:  "To  this  man  will  I  look,  even  to  him 
that  is  poor,  and  of  a  contrite  heat,  and  trembles  at  My  word."  5. 
A  tender  lip  or  tongue,  that  dare  not  lie,  nor  speak  profanely:  "I 
said,  I  Avill  take  heed  to  my  ways,  that  I  sin  not  with  my  tongue." 
And  6,  A  tender  hand,  that  dares  not  touch  the  garments  spotted 
with  the  flesh,  but  studies  to  shun  all  appearances  of  evil ;  or,  if  you 
will,  you  may  add,  lastly,  that  he  hath  a  tender  foot,  saying  with 
Hezekiah,  "I  will  go  softly  all  my  years  in  the  bitterness  of  my 
soul,"  And  this  leads  to  another  quality  of  this  regular  aj)proach. 
2d]y.  When  there  is  a  gathering  to  Shiloh,  the  regular  approach  and 
address  to  Him  is  made  obedientially,  as  well  as  penitentially ;  it  is  an 
obediential  gathering :  and  as  faith  acts  penitentially,  so  it  acts  obe- 
dientially;  for  "it  works  by  love,"  "  It  purifies  the  heart;"  "and  the 
man  that  hath  it  purifies  himself,  even  as  God  is  pure."  It  stirs 
up  to  new  obedience  ;  for  "  faith  without  works  is  dead."  Wherever 
it  is,  it  is  still  working,  and  it  can  no  more  be  idle  than  the  fire  can 
be.  It  is  true  "we  are  justified  by  faith  without  works,"  as  the 
Apostle  says,  that  is  without  the  causality  of  works,  without  the 
conditionahty  of  works,  without  the  instrumentality  of  works,  and 
without  the  influence  of  works  upon  our  justification;  but  not  with- 
out the  presence  of  works  ;  for  justifying  faith  is  a  sanctifying  thing, 
and  natively  works,  as  the  fire  natively  burns :  Common  faith  is  a 
dead  useless  faith,  making  no  change  or  alteration  on  the  soul  where 
it  is ;  but  saving  faith  acts  always  obedientially  ;  hence  you  read  of 
"  the  obedience  of  faith,  importing  both  that  faith  acts  in  obedience 
to  the  Divine  call  at  first,  and  that  it  influences  the  soul  to  all  the 
acts  of  Gospel  obedience  afterward.     0,  says  the  returning  sinner, 


THE    GATHERING    OP    THE    PEOPLE    TO    SUILOn.      239 

that  is  making  this  obediential  address  to  a  God  in  Christ,  I  have 
been  a  fugitive  servant  to  the  most  glorious  Lord  and  Master  ;  I  have 
deserted  His  service,  and  denied  my  obedience  ;  but  now,  Lord,  nail 
my  ear  to  Thy  door-post,  that  I  may  serve  Thee  forever ;  nail  my 
heart  to  Thy  service,  that  no  trouble,  temptation,  devil  or  deser- 
tion may  drive  me  away  from  Thee  ;  nail  my  eyes  to  Thy  service, 
that  I  may  never  look  upon  vanity  ;  nail  my  hands  to  Thy  service 
that  I  may  never  do  an  ill  turn ;  nail  my  feet  to  Thy  way,  that  I 
may  never  turn  aside  from  Thee :  let  all  the  faculties  of  my  soul  be 
nailed  to  Thy  service  and  obedience.  3dly.  When  there  is  a  gather- 
ing to  Shiloh,  the  regular  address  to  Him  is  made  speedily  ;  O  the 
poor  soul,  that  sees  itself  ready  to  drop  into  hell,  how  speedily,  in 
the  day  of  power,  does  it  flee  unto  Christ !  "  I  flee  to  Thee  to  hide 
me,"  says  the  Psalmist.  The  flight  of  fiiith  is  very  quick^  quick  and 
swift  as  lightning,  that  goes  from  the  one  end  of  heaven  to  the  other 
in  an  instant ;  so  when  the  soul  is  on  the  wing,  under  the  influence 
of  the  spirit  of  faith,  it  can  flee  from  earth  to  heaven  in  a  moment. 
But  this  speedy  gathering,  I  understand  especially  in  opposition  to 
delays,  which  are  dangerous  in  religon  :  to  delay  coming  to  Christ 
for  one  half  hour,  is  dangerous  exceedingly  ;  for,  if  you  die  within 
that  half  hour,  you  are  undone  to  eternity.  Now,  in  a  day  of 
powerful  gathering,  the  soul  makes  no  longer  delay,  but  is  in  a 
holy  haste,  "  I  made  haste,  and  delayed  not  to  keep  Thy  righteoiis 
judgments."  The  man  is  made  to  fly  with  speed,  and  to  run  with 
haste  out  of  Sodom.  4thly.  When  there  is  a  gathering  to  Shiloh,  the 
regular  approach  and  address  to  him  is  made  deliberately  ;  though  it 
is  with  speed,  yet  it  is  with  deliberation.  Though  none  can  believe 
too  soon  by  a  saving  faith,  yet  some  believe  too  soon  by  a  temporary 
faith,  never  having  weighed  matters  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary. 
The  true  approacher  puts  the  matter  in  a  fair  balance  ;  he  puts  the 
disadvantages  in  one  scale,  saying,  What  will  be  ray  fare  if  I  come 
not  to  Christ  ?  Why,  "  They  that  are  far  from  Him  shall  perish." 
He  puts  the  advantages  in  another  scale,  and  comes  at  length  to 
that  conclusion.  "  It  is  good  for  me  to  draw  near  to  God."  O,  of 
all  the  gatherings,  the  gathering  to  Shiloh  is  best ;  "To  whom 
shall  I  go?  He  hath  the  words  of  eternal  life."  The  man  is 
not  affected  only  with  a  transient  flash ;  no,  he  sees  the  wicked  oft 
in  prosperity,  and  the  godly  in  adversity  ;  he  sees  the  large  and  al- 
luring offers  that  sin,  Satan  and  the  world  make ;  and  yet  after  all, 
he  deliberately  affirms.  It  is  good  for  me  to  draw  near  to  God  and 
Christ:  let  others  say,  "Who  will  show  us  any  good?"  but  my 
say  shall  be,   "  Lord,  lift  Thou  up  the  light  of  Thy  countenance  on 


240  RALPH    ERSKINE. 

me,  5t]il3^  When  there  is  a  gathering  to  Shiloh,  the  regular  ap- 
proach and  address  is  made  chastely  and  uprightly.  The  soul  views 
the  saying,  that  Christ  came  to  save  sinners  from  sin  and  wrath,  not 
only  as  a  faithful  saying,  but  as  worthy  of  all  acceptation ;  because 
the  beauty  of  Christ  is  discovered.  Some  have  their  reason  con- 
quered, but  not  their  love;  and  therefore  they  come  to  Christ 
feignedly,  and  not  with  the  whole  heart ;  their  judgment  draws  one 
way,  and  their  affections  another ;  for  their  judgment  is  gained,  but 
not  their  affections :  as  if  one  should  marry  a  w^oman,  not  because 
of  her  beauty,  but  because  of  her  patrimony ;  not  from  love  to  her 
person,  but  love  to  her  portion.  Some  take  on  with  Christ,  and  take 
hold  of  the  skirt  of  this  Jew,  who  yet  see  "  No  form  or  comeliness  in 
Him,  for  which  He  should  be  desired."  But  as  it  is  said,  "  The  up- 
right love  Thee ;"  so  they  that  in  gathering  to  Him  act  chastely  and 
uprightly,  they  come  to  Him  out  of  pure  love,  not  for  servile  ends, 
not  to  gratify  a  natural  conscience,  not  for  fear  of  hell  only,  but  from 
a  great  love  to  Him,  and  a  just  esteem  of  Him,  and  a  strong  desire 
of  fellowship  with  Him.  The  man  is  content  to  come  to  Christ  on 
Mount  Calvary,  as  well  as  on  Mount  Tabor ;  when  going  to  Gol- 
gotha in  ignominy,  as  well  as  when  riding  to  Jerusalem  in  triumph : 
he  cleaves  to  Him,  when  people  cry,  "Away  with  Him,  away  with 
Him;  crucify  Him  ;"  as  well  as  wdien  they  cry,  "  Hosanna  to  the 
Son  of  David."  He  loves  Him  when  lying  in  a  grave,  as  well  as 
when  mounted  on  a  throne.  The  chaste  and  upright  comer  cleaves 
to  Him,  when  kings  and  princes  are  against  Him,  when  laws  and 
governments  are  against  Him,  when  potentates  and  parliaments 
are  against  Him,  as  well  as  when  they  seem  to  be  upon  His  side.  It 
is  too  true  indeed,  that  there  are  many  unchaste  thoughts,  and  looks, 
and  lustings  after  idols  in  the  hearts  of  true  believers,  and  many  de- 
fections and  declinings  may  take  place  ;  but  these  are  wrestled  with 
and  opposed  by  them,  and  that  not  only  by  their  light  and  con- 
science, but  by  their  love  and  affection  to  the  Lord  Jesus,  saying, 
"  0  shall  I  thus  requite  the  Lord  ?"  So  that  in  the  main  they  are 
upright.  But,  to  the  same  purpose,  6thly.  When  there  is  a  gather- 
ing of  the  people  to  Shiloh,  the  right  and  regular  approach  and  ad- 
dress to  Him  is  made  entirely  and  undividedly.  False  and  hypo- 
critical comers  come  with  a  divided  heart  to  a  divided  Christ; 
but  true  comers,  with  a  whole  heart  to  a  whole  Christ.  The  legalist 
would  marry  Christ,  while  yet  his  other  husband  the  law  is  not  dead 
to  him,  nor  he  dead  to  it;  but  it  is  an  adulterous  and  unlawful 
match,  to  join  with  another  husband  while  the  first  is  living. 
Hence  true  believers  in  Christ  are  said  to  be  "  Dead  to  the  law  by 


THE    GATHERING    OP    THE    PEOPLE    TO    SHILOH.      2-il 

the  body  of  Christ,  that  they  might  be  married  to  another,"  etc. 
And  God  casts  down  the  old  building,  turns  him  out  of  that  shelter, 
lets  him  see  all  his  legal  duties,  best  performances,  and  most  glaring 
graces,  are  but  fig-leaves,  insufficient  to  cover  his  nakedness ;  and 
discovers  the  necessity,  excellency  and  glory  of  Christ's  righteous- 
ness ;  and  the  man  submits  cordially  to  it,  renouncing  all  hope  and 
expectation  of  life,  favor  and  justification  by  the  deeds  of  the  law. 
The  carnal  man  would  have  Christ  and  his  lusts  too  ;  "  But  if  you 
seek  Me,"  says  Christ,  "  let  these  go  their  way."  Gathering  grace 
makes  the  man  say,  "  What  have  I  to  do  any  more  with  idols  ?"  The 
covetous  man  would  have  Christ  and  the  world  too ;  Christ  satisfies 
his  conscience,  and  he  flees  to  Him  for  that ;  the  world  satisfies  his 
heart,  and  he  cleaves  to  it  for  that:  but  in  the  day  of  gathering 
power,  the  emptiness  of  the  world  is  discovered,  and  the  man  sells 
all  for  the  pearl  of  gTcat  price. 

The  man  that  comes  to  Christ,  comes  for  all  these  four  things, 
For  Wisdom,  Righteousness^  iSanctiJication,  and  Medemjjtio?! ;  he  comes 
to  Him  as  a  Prophet  for  wisdom,  as  a  Priest  for  righteousness,  as  a 
King  for  sanctification,  and  as  his  All  in  all  for  complete  redemp- 
tion :  and  he  can  want  none  of  these,  because  he  knows  his  own 
foolishness,  guiltiness,  filthiness,  and  misery.  The  true  believer 
dares  not  divide  righteousness  from  sanctification,  nor  pardon  from 
purity ;  yea,  he  comes  to  Christ  for  remission  of  sin  for  the  right 
end.  What  is  that  ?  Namely,  that,  being  freed  from  the  guilt  of 
sin,  he  may  be  freed  from  the  dominion  of  it.  Knowing  that  there 
is  forgiveness  with  Him  that  He  may  be  feared,  he  does  not  believe 
remission  of  sin  that  he  may  indulge  himself  in  the  commission  of 
it-  No,  no;  the  blood  of  Christ,  that  purges  the  conscience  from 
the  guilt  of  sin,  does  also  purge  the  conscience  fi'om  dead  works  to 
serve  the  living  God.  They  that  come  to  Christ  regularly  then, 
come  so  to  Him  for  righteousness,  that  they  may  have  Him  also 
for  sanctification;  otherwise  the  man  does  not  really  desire  the 
favor  and  enjoyment  of  God,  or  to  be  in  friendship  with  Him  who 
is  a  holy  God.  As  the  true  lover  loves  Him,  not  only  because  He 
is  good  and  merciful,  but  because  He  is  a  pure  and  holy  Jesus  ;  so 
the  true  believer  employs  Christ  for  making  him  holy  as  well  as 
happy ;  and  hence  draws  virtue  from  Him  for  killing  of  sin,  and 
quickening  the  soul  in  the  way  of  duty :  and  indeed  the  faith  that 
can  never  keep  you  from  a  sin,  will  never  keep  you  out  of  hell ;  and 
the  faith  that  can  not  carry  you  to  a  duty,  will  not  carry  you  to 
heaven.  Justifying  faith  is  a  sanctifying  grace,  it  imjDroves  Christ 
undividedly.     'Tis  true,  as  it  sanctifies  it  does  not  justify;  but  that 

16 


242  RALPH    ERSKINE. 

faith  that  justifies,  does  also  sanctify:  as  the  sun  that  enlightens  hath 
heat  with  it,  but  it  is  not  the  heat  of  the  sun  that  enlightens,  but 
the  light  thereof;  so  that  faith  that  justifies  hath  love  and  sanctity 
with  it,  but  it  is  not  the  love  and  sanctity  that  justifies,  but  faith  as 
closing  with  Christ.  7thly.  When  there  is  a  gathering  of  the  peo- 
ple to  Shiloh,  the  regular  approach  and  address  to  him  is  made  ex- 
clusively, excluding  all  other  saviours,  all  other  helps,  all  other  props, 
saying,  "I  vfill  make  mention  of  Thy  righteousness,  and  of  Thine 
only."  To  depend  partly  upon  Christ,  and  partly  upon  our  own 
righteousness,  is  to  set  one  foot  upon  firm  ground,  and  another  upon 
quicksand.  If  a  man  set  one  foot  upon  a  rock,  and  another  upon 
the  deep  water,  and  lean  to  them  both  with  equal  weight,  yea,  if  he 
give  any  of  his  weight  to  the  foot  that  is  on  the  w^ater,  he  will  be 
sure  to  sink  into  the  deep :  so  here.  Therefore,  in  the  day  of  gath- 
ering to  Christ,  the  soul  is  brought  to  say,  "  Surely  in  the  Lord  only 
have  I  righteousness  and  strength."  Thus  Paul  excludes  the  best 
righteousness  that  ever  he  had,  either  before  or  after  conversion, 
from  the  matter  of  his  justification.  When  he  compares  his  best 
righteousness  with  Christ's,  he  looks  upon  it  as  a  dunghill,  a  stinking 
dunghill  where  there  is  no  pleasure,  and  a  sinking  dunghill  where 
there  is  no  standing.  Such  is  our  righteousness,  if  it  be  not  ex- 
cluded from  our  justification  before  God,  and  acceptance  with  Him. 
K  we  go  about  to  establish  our  own  righteousness,  it  stinks  in  the 
Divine  nostrils  as  dung :  and  not  only  so,  but  it  is  a  sinking  ground 
to  stand  upon,  there 's  no  firm  footing ;  the  more  a  man  leans  to  it, 
the  more  he  sinks  in  it.  Christ's  blood  is  the  only  sacrifice  of  a 
sweet-smelling  savor  to  God ;  every  sacrifice  stinks,  that  is  not  per- 
fumed therewith :  Christ's  righteousness  is  the  only  sure  foundation 
and  firm  ground  for  standing  u|)on  before  God.  As  the  way  of  sin 
is  a  sinking  way,  so  the  way  of  self-righteousness  is  little  better ;  for 
the  sin  that  is  in  man's  best  righteousness  trips  up  his  heels,  and  lays 
him  in  the  dirt,  where  he  sinks  to  hell,  if  he  be  not  brought  to  build 
upon  a  surer  ground,  and  to  take  a  better  way.  Sthly.  When  there 
is  a  gathering  to  Shiloh,  the  regular  approach  and  address  to  him  is 
made  lyrogressively,  as  also  peremptorify  and  irreversibly,  saying, 
"Henceforth  we  will  not  go  back."  O,  after  we  have  tasted  the  bit- 
terness of  sin,  and  the  bitterness  of  wrath,  after  the  wings  of  our 
souls  have  been  singed  with  the  flames  of  hell,  after  the  arrows  of 
conviction  shot  out  of  the  bow  of  Omnipotence  have  pierced  our 
souls,  so  as  no  man,  minister  or  angel,  could  pull  them  out,  Christ 
did  it  with  His  own  hand,  and  therein  manifested  His  powerful 
'Grace,  as  being  the  man  of  God's  right  hand,  shall  we  again  turn 


THE    GATHERINa    OF    THE    PEOPLE    TO    SHILOH.      243 

our  back  upon  Him  ?  No,  henceforth  throngli  grace  we  will  not  go 
back.  The  true  believer  comes  to  Christ,  so  as  never  to  part  with 
Him,  saying,  as  Euth  to  Naomi.  "  Entreat  me  not  to  leave  Thee,  or 
to  return  from  following  after  Thee  :  for  whither  Thou  goest,  I  will 
go ;  and  where  Thou  lodgest,  I  will  lodge :  Thy  people  shall  be  my 
people,  and  Thy  God  my  God.  Nothing  shall  part  Thee  and  me." 
Yea,  the  man,  having  once  come  to  Christ,  is  aye  coming  nearer  and 
nearer  to  Him.  "  To  whom  coming,  as  to  a  living  stone,  ye  are 
built  up  a  spiritual  house ;"  the  building  goes  up  gradually,  and  is 
still  going  forward.  Some  professors  are  like  the  mill-wheel ;  it  goes 
round,  yet  still  it  stands  in  the  same  place  where  it  was :  they  go 
the  round  of  duties,  and  morning  and  evening  prayers,  and  attend 
Sabbath  and  week-day  sermons,  which  is  well  done ;  but  they  are 
at  a  stand,  they  are  the  same  now  that  they  were  ten,  twenty  years 
ago,  if  not  worse.  But,  in  gathering  to  Shiloh,  the  people  are  made 
to  advance  nearer  and  nearer  to  heaven,  getting  more  knowledge, 
more  experience,  more  hatred  of  sin,  more  love  and  likeness  to 
Christ.  It  is  true,  the  saints  themselves  have  their  winter- decays, 
but  they  have  also  their  summer  revivings  that  set  them  forward 
again.  And  thus  "  The  path  of  the  just  is  as  the  shining  light, 
which  shineth  more  and  more  to  a  perfect  day. 


DISCOURSE    FIFTY. EIGHTH. 

JOHNM'LAURIN. 

M'Laukix  was  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of  the  Christian 
churches  of  his  time.  He  was  bom  at  Glenderule,  in  Argyleshire, 
where  his  father  was  minister,  in  the  year  1693.  His  studies  were  pur- 
sued at  Glasgow  and  Leyden.  In  1717  he  was  licensed  to  preach,  and 
in  1719  ordained  minister  of  Luss,  a  county  parish,  situated  on  the  banks 
of  Loch  Lomond,  about  twenty  miles  north  of  Glasgow.  In  1723  he 
became  minister  in  the  city  of  Glasgow,  where  he  died  in  September, 
1754. 

M'Laurin  was  a  correspondent  of  President  Edwards ;  and  between 
these  two  eminent  and  devoted  ministers  there  existed  great  mutual 
affection  and  Christian  regard.  It  is  not  often  that  profound  piety,  un- 
wearied activity,  and  the  highest  order  of  intellectual  endowments  have 
been  more  happUy  united  than  in  M'Laurin.  The  fruits  of  his  pen  that 
remain  are  few,  but  of  sterling  value.  They  consist  mainly  in  essays 
and  sermons,  and  an  octavo  volume  on  the  "  Prophecies  Concerning  the 
Messiah,"  the  republication  of  which  in  this  country  would  be  an  accepta- 
ble service  to  many.  The  Presbyterian  Board  of  Publication  in  Phila- 
delphia have  issued  his  sermons  and  essays  in  one  12mo  volmne.  For 
impressive  eloquence  he  has  nothing  else  equal  to  the  sermon  here  given. 
It  is  a  masterpiece ;  and  though  the  several  parts  do  not  possess  the  same 
degree  of  merit,  any  portion  of  it  is  too  good  to  be  omitted,  so  that  we 
give  it  entire. 


GLOEYING  IN  THE  CKOSS  OF  CHEIST. 

"  But  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by 
■whom  the  world  is  crucified  unto  me,  and  I  unto  the  world." — Galatians,  vi.  14. 

It  is  an  old  and  useful  observation,  that  many  of  the  most  excel- 
lent objects  in  the  world  are  objects  whose  excellency  does  not  ap- 
pear at  first  view  ;  as,  on  the  other  hand,  many  things  of  little  value 


GLORYING    IN"    THE    CROSS    OP    CHRIST.  245 

appear  more  excellent  at  first,  than  a  nearer  view  discovers  tliem  to 
be.  There  are  some  things  we  admire,  because  we  do  not  know 
them  ;  and  the  more  we  know  them,  the  less  we  admire  them  :  there 
are  other  things  we  despise  through  ignorance,  because  it  requires 
pains  and  application  to  discover  their  beauty  and  excellency. 

This  holds  true  in  nothing  more  than  in  that  glorious,  despised 
object  mentioned  in  the  text.  There  is  nothing  the  world  is  more 
divided  about  in  its  opinion,  than  this.  To  the  one  part,  it  is  alto- 
gether contemptible ;  to  the  other,  it  is  altogether  glorious.  The 
one  part  of  the  world  wonders  what  attractions  others  find  in  it ;  and 
the  other  part  wonders  how  the  rest  of  the  world  are  so  stupid  as 
not  to  see  them ;  and  are  amazed  at  the  blindness  of  others,  and 
their  own  former  blindness. 

It  is  said  of  the  famous  reformer  Melancthon,  when  he  first  saw 
the  glory  of  this  object  at  his  conversion,  that  he  imagined  that  he 
could  easily,  by  plain  persuasion,  convince  others  of  it ;  that  the 
matter  being  so  plain,  and  the  evidence  so  strong,  he  did  not  see 
how,  on  a  fair  representation,  any  could  stand  out  against  it.  But, 
upon  trial,  he  was  forced  to  express  himself  with  regret,  "that  old 
Adam  was  too  strong  for  young  Melancthon  ;  and  that  human 
corruption  was  too  strong  for  human  persuasion,  without  Divine 
grace." 

The  true  use  we  should  make  of  this  is,  certainly,  to  apply  for 
that  enlightening  grace  to  ourselves  which  the  Apostle  Paul  prays 
for,  in  the  behalf  of  the  Ephesians :  "  That  the  God  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  may  give  unto  us  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and  revelation 
in  the  knowledge  of  Him."  But,  as  here,  and  in  other  cases,  prayer 
and  means  should  be  joined  together,  so  one  of  the  chief  means  of  a 
right  knowledge  of  the  principal  object  of  our  faith,  and  ground  of 
our  hope,  is  to  meditate  on  the  glory  of  that  object,  asserted  so 
strongly  in  this  text ;  and  that  by  one  who  formerly  had  as  dimin- 
ishing thoughts  of  it  as  any  of  its  enemies  can  have. 

In  the  verses  preceding  the  text,  the  apostle  tells  the  Galatians 
what  some  false  teachers  among  them  gloried  in  ;  here  he  tells  what 
he  himself  gloried  in.  They  gloried  in  the  old  ceremonies  of  the 
Jewish  law,  which  were  but  shadows ;  he  gloried  in  the  cross  of 
Christ,  the  substance.  He  knew  it  was  an  affront  to  the  substance, 
to  continue  these  shadows  in  their  former  force,  after  the  substance 
itself  appeared ;  therefore  he  rejects  that  practice  with  zeal,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  confines  his  own  glorying  to  that  blessed  object, 
which  the  shadows  were  designed  to  signify.  "  God  forbid  that  I 
should  glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 


246  JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

Here  the  apostle  showeth  us  both  Lis  high  esteem  of  the  cross  of 
Christ,  and  the  powerful  influence  of  it  upon  his  mind.  The  cross 
of  Christ  signifies,  in  Scripture,  sometimes  our  sufferings  for  Christ, 
sometimes  His  sufferings  for  us.  As  the  latter  is  the  chief  and  most 
natural  sense  of  the  words,  so  there  is  reason  to  think  it  is  the  sense 
of  the  apostle  here.  This  is  the  sense  of  the  same  expression  in  the 
twelfth  verse  of  this  chapter,  which  speaks  of  persecution  (that  is, 
our  suffering)  for  the  cross  of  Christ,  namely,  the  doctrine  of  Christ's 
cross.  Besides,  it  is  certain,  that  it  is  not  our  sufferings,  but  Christ's 
sufferings,  which  we  are  chiefly  to  glory  in,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
other  things ;  and  it  is  not  the  former  chiefly,  but  the  latter,  that 
mortifies  our  corruptions,  and  crucifies  the  world  to  us. 

The  cross  of  Christ  may  signify  here,  not  only  His  death  but  the 
whole  of  His  humiliation,  or  all  the  sufferings  of  His  life  and  death ; 
of  which  sufierings  the  cross  was  the  consummation.  The  apostle, 
both  here  and  elsewhere,  mentions  the  cross,  to  remind  us  of  the 
manner  of  His  death,  and  to  strengthen  in  our  minds  those  impres- 
sions which  the  condescension  of  that  death  had  made,  or  ought  to 
have  made,  in  them.  That  the  Author  of  liberty  should  suffer  the 
death  of  a  slave  ;  the  Fountain  of  honor,  the  height  of  disgrace  ;  and 
that  the  jDunishments  which  were  wont  to  be  inflicted  upon  the  mean- 
est persons  for  the  highest  offenses,  should  be  inflicted  on  the  greatest 
Person  that  could  suffer  ;  this  is  the  object  that  the  apostle  gloried  in. 

There  are  not  two  things  more  opposite  than  glory  and  shame ; 
here  the  apostle  joins  them  together.  The  cross,  in  itself,  is  an  ob- 
ject full  of  shame ;  in  this  case,  it  appeareth  to  the  apostle  full  of 
glor3^  It  had  been  less  remarkable  had  he  only  said  he  gloried  in 
his  Kedeemer's  exaltation  after  He  left  the  world,  or  in  the  glory  He 
had  with  the  Father  before  He  came  to  it,  yea,  before  the  world  was : 
but  the  object  of  the  apostle's  glorying  is  the  Eedeemer,  not  only 
considered  in  the  highest  state  of  honor  and  dignity,  but  even  viewed 
in  the  lowest  circumstances  of  disgrace  and  ignominy  ;  not  only  as  a 
powerful  and  exalted,  but  as  a  condemned  and  crucified  Saviour. 

Ohrying  signifies  the  highest  degree  of  esteem :  the  cross  of 
Christ  was  an  object  of  which  the  apostle  had  the  most  exalted  sen- 
timents, and  the  most  profound  veneration  ;  this  veneration  he  took 
pleasure  to  avow  before  the  world,  and  was  ready  to  publish  on  all 
occasions.  This  object  so  occupied  his  heart  and  engrossed  his  af- 
fections, that  it  left  no  room  for  any  thing  else — he  gloried  in  noth- 
ing else.  And,  as  he  telleth  us  in  other  places,  he  counted  every 
thing  else  but  loss  and  dung,  and  would  know  nothing  else,  and  was 
determined  about  it. 


GLORYING    IN    THE    CROSS    OP    CHRIST.  247 

The  manner  of  expressing  his  esteem  of  this  object  has  a  re- 
markable force  and  vehemence  in  it :  "  God  forbid  !"  or,  Let  it  by  no 
means  happen.  As  if  he  had  said,  "God  forbid,  whatever  others 
do,  that  ever  it  should  be  said  that  Paul,  the  old  persecutor,  should 
glory  in  any  thing  else  but  in  the  crucified  Eedeemer ;  who  plucked 
him  as  a  brand  out  of  the  fire,  when  he  was  running  further  and 
further  into  it ;  and  who  pursued  him  with  mercy  and  kindness, 
when  he  was  pursuing  Him  in  His  members  with  fierceness  and 
cruelty.  I  did  it  through  ignorance  (and  it  is  only  through  ignor- 
ance that  any  despise  Him).  He  has  now  revealed  Himself  to  me  ; 
and  God  forbid  that  the  light  that  met  me  at  Damascus  should  ever 
go  out  of  my  mind.  It  was  a  light  full  of  glory  ;  the  object  it  dis- 
covered was  all  glorious — my  all  in  all ;  and  God  forbid  that  I 
should  glory  in  any  thing  else." 

His  esteem  of  that  blessed  object  was  great,  and  its  influence  on 
him  was  proportionable.  By  it  the  world  was  crucified  to  him  and 
he  was  crucified  to  the  world.  Here  is  a  mutual  crucifixion.  His 
esteem  of  Christ  was  the  cause  why  the  world  despised  him,  and 
was  despised  by  him.  ISTot  that  the  cross  made  him  hate  the  men 
of  the  world,  or  refuse  the  lawful  enjoyments  of  it ;  it  allowed  him 
the  use  of  the  latter,  and  obliged  him  to  love  the  former.  But  it 
crucified  those  corruptions  which  are  contrary  both  to  the  love  of 
our  neighbor  and  the  true  enjoyment  of  the  creature.  This  is  called 
fighting,  warring,  wrestling  and  killing.  The  reason  is,  because  we- 
should  look  upon  sin  as  our  greatest  enemy ;  the  greatest  enemy  of 
our  souls,  and  of  the  Saviour  of  our  souls.  This  was  the  view  the- 
apostle  had  of  sin,  and  of  the  corruption  of  the  world  through  lust.. 
He  looked  upon  it  as  the  murderer  of  his  Eedeemer  ;  and  this  in- 
spired him  with  a  just  resentment  against  it.  It  filled  him  with  those 
blessed  passions  against  it,  mentioned  by  himself,  as  the  native  fruits. 
of  faith  and  repentance ;  zeal,  indignation,  revenge ;  that  is,  such  a 
detestation  of  sin,  as  was  joined  with  the  most  careful  watchfulness-, 
against  it. 

This  is  that  crucifying  of  the  world  meant  by  the  apostle^ 
The  reason  of  the  expression  is,  because  the  inordinate  love  of 
worldly  things  is  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  sin.  The  cross  of 
Christ  gave  such  a  happy  turn  to  the  apostle's  affections,  that  the 
world  was  no  more  the  same  thing  to  him  that  it  was  to  others,  and 
that  it  had  been  formerly  to  himself.  His  soul  was  sick  of  its  pomp ;; 
and  the  things  he  was  most  fond  of  before,  had  now  lost  their  relish 
with  him.  Its  honors  appeared  now  contemptible,  its  riches  ]^oor, 
its  pleasures  nauseous ;  its  examples  and  favors  did  not  allure,  nor- 


248  JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

its  hatred  terrify  him.  He  considered  the  love  or  hatred  of  men, 
not  chiefly  as  it  affected  him,  but  themselves,  by  furthering  or  hin- 
dering the  success  of  his  doctrine  among  them.  All  these  things  may 
be  included  in  that  "  crucifying  of  the  world"  mentioned  in  the  last 
clause  of  the  verse ;  but  the  intended  ground  of  the  discourse  being 
the  first  clause,  the  doctrine  to  be  insisted  on  is  this : 

"  That  the  cross  of  Christ  affords  sinners  matter  of  glorying 
above  all  other  things :  yea,  that  it  is,  in  a  manner,  the  only  thing 
they  should  glory  in.  The  whole  humiliation  of  Christ,  and  partic- 
ularly His  death  for  the  sake  of  sinners,  is  an  object  that  has  such 
incomparable  glory  in  it,  that  it  becomes  us  to  have  the  most  hon- 
orable and  exalted  thoughts  of  it."  As  this  is  evidently  contained 
in  the  text,  so  it  is  frequently  inculcated  on  us  in  other  Scriptures. 
It  is  plain  that  when  the  Scriptures  speak  of  the  glory  of  God  in 
the  face  of  Jesus  Christ,  it  is  meant  chiefly  of  His  glory  in  the  face 
of  Christ  crucified ;  that  is,  in  the  work  of  redemption  finished  on 
the  cross. 

In  discoursing  on  this  subject,  it  will  be  proper,  first,  to  consider 
briefly,  What  it  is  to  glory  in  any  object ;  and  then.  What  ground 
of  glorying  we  have  in  this  blessed  object  proposed  in  the  text. 

To  glory  in  any  object  includes  these  two  things :  first,  a  high 
esteem  of  it ;  and  then,  some  concern  in  it.  We  do  not  glory  in  the 
things  we  are  interested  in  unless  we  esteem  them ;  nor  in  the  things 
we  admire  and  esteem,  unless  we  are  some  way  interested  in  them. 
But  although  all  professing  Christians  are  some  way  concerned  to 
glory  in  the  cross  of  Christ,  because  the  blessed  fruits  of  His  cross 
are  both  plainly  revealed,  and  freely  offered  to  them ;  yet,  it  is  those 
only  who  have  sincerely  embraced  these  offers,  that  can  truly  glory 
in  that  object.  Yet,  what  is  their  privilege,  is  the  duty  of  all.  All 
should  be  exhorted  to  glory  in  this  object,  and  to  have  a  high  es- 
teem of  it,  because  of  its  excellency  in  itself ;  to  fix  their  hearts  on 
it  by  faith,  because  it  is  offered  to  them  ;  to  show  their  esteem  of  it 
by  seeking  an  interest  in  it ;  and,  having  a  due  esteem  of  it,  and 
obtained  an  interest  in  it,  to  study  a  frame  of  habitual  triumph  in  it. 
But  the  nature  of  this  happy  frame  of  mind  is  best  understood  by 
considering  the  glory  of  the  object  of  it. 

The  ancient  prophets  who  foretold  Christ's  coming,  appear  trans- 
ported with  the  view  of  His  glory.  Not  only  the  New  Testament, 
but  also  the  Old,  represents  the  Messiah  as  the  most  remarkable  and 
most  honorable  Person  that  ever  appeared  on  the  stage  of  the  world. 
It  speaks  of  Him  as  a  glorious  Governor,  a  Prince,  a  King,  a  Con- 
queror, besides  other  magnificent  titles  of  the  greatest  dignity ;  show- 


GLORYING    IN    THE    CROSS    OP    CHRIST.  249 

ing  tliat  His  government  sliould  be  extensive  and  everlasting,  and 
ttat  His  glory  should  fill  the  whole  earth.  But,  while  the  prophets 
foretell  His  greatness,  they  foretell  also  His  meanness.  They  show, 
indeed.  He  was  to  be  a  glorious  King,  but  a  King  who  would  be 
rejected  and  despised  of  men  ;  and  that,  after  all  the  great  expecta- 
tion the  world  would  have  of  Him,  He  was  to  pass  over  the  stage 
of  the  world  disregarded  and  unobserved,  excepting  as  to  the  ma- 
licious treatment  He  was  to  meet  with  on  it. 

About  the  time  of  His  coming,  the  Jews  were  big  with  hopes  of 
Him,  as  the  great  Deliverer  and  chief  ornament  of  their  nation. 
And  if  history  be  credited,  even  the  heathens  had  a  notion  about 
that  time,  which  probably  was  derived  from  the  Jewish  prophecies, 
that  there  was  a  Prince  of  unparalleled  glory  to  rise  in  the  East, 
and  even  in  Judea  in  particular,  who  was  to  found  a  kind  of  uni- 
versal monarchy.  But  their  vain  hearts,  like  those  of  most  men  in 
all  ages,  were  so  intoxicated  with  the  admiration  of  worldly  pomp, 
that  that  was  the  only  greatness  they  had  any  notion  or  relish  of. 
This  made  them  form  a  picture  of  Him  who  was  the  desire  of  all 
nations,  very  unlike  the  original. 

A  king  whom  the  world  admires,  is  one  of  extensive  power, 
with  numerous  armies,  a  golden  crown  and  scepter,  a  throne  of  state, 
magnificent  palaces,  sumptuous  feasts,  many  attendants  of  high 
rank,  immense  treasures  to  enrich  them  with,  and  various  posts  of 
honor  to  prefer  them  to. 

Here  was  the  reverse  of  all  this.  For  a  crown  of  gold,  a  crown 
of  thorns ;  for  a  scej)ter,  a  reed  put  in  His  hand  in  derision  ;  for  a 
"throne,  a  cross.  Instead  of  palaces,  not  a  place  to  lay  His  head ;  in- 
stead of  sumptuous  feasts  to  others,  ofttimes  hungry  and  thirsty 
Himself;  instead  of  great  attendants,  a  company  of  poor  fishermen; 
instead  of  treasures  to  give  them,  not  money  enough  to  pay  tribute 
without  working  a  miracle ;  and  the  preferment  offered  them,  was 
to  give  each  of  them  His  cross  to  bear.  In  all  things  the  reverse 
of  worldly  greatness,  from  first  to  last.  A  manger  for  a  cradle  at 
His  birth ;  not  a  place  to  lay  His  head  sometimes  in  His  life ;  nor  a 
grave  of  His  own  at  His  death. 

Here  unbelief  frets  and  murmurs,  and  asks,  Where  is  all  the 
glory  that  is  so  much  extolled  ?  For  discovering  this,  faith  needs 
only  look  through  that  thin  vail  of  flesh,  and  under  that  low  dis- 
guise appears  the  Lord  of  glory,  the  King  of  kings,  the  Lord  of 
hosts,  strong  and  mighty.  The  Lord,  mighty  in  battle  ;  the  heavens 
His  throne ;  the  earth  His  footstool ;  the  light  His  garments,  the 
clouds  His  chariots ;  the  thunder  His  voice ;  His  strength  omnipo- 


250  JOHN"    M'LAURIN. 

tence ;  His  riches  all-sufficiency ;  His  glory  infinite ;  His  retinue  the 
hosts  of  lieaven,  and  the  excellent  ones  of  the  earth ;  on  whom  He 
bestows  riches  unsearchable,  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  banquets 
of  everlasting  joys,  and  preferments  of  immortal  honor ;  making 
them  kings  and  priests  unto  God ;  conquerors :  yea,  and  more  than 
conquerors — children  of  God,  and  mystically  one  with  Himself. 

Here  appears  something  incomparably  above  all  worldly  glory, 
though  under  a  mean  disguise.  But  the  objection  is  still  against 
that  disguise.  Yet  even  that  disguise,  upon  due  consideration,  will 
appear  to  be  so  glorious,  that  its  very  meanness  is  honorable.  It 
■was  a  glorious  disguise,  because  the  designs  and  effects  of  it  are  so. 
If  He  suffered  shame,  poverty,  pain,  sorrows,  and  death  for  a  time, 
it  was  that  we  might  not  suffer  these  things  forever.  That  mean- 
ness, therefore,  was  glorious,  because  it  was  subservient  unto  an 
infinitely  glorious  design  of  love  and  mercy. 

It  was  subservient  more  ways  than  one.  It  satisfied  the  penalty 
of  the  law  ;  it  put  unspeakable  honor  on  the  commandments  of  it. 
It  was  a  part  of  Christ's  design  to  make  holiness  (that  is,  obedience 
to  the  law)  so  honorable,  that  every  thing  else  should  be  contempti- 
ble in  comj)arison  of  it.  Love  of  worldly  greatness  is  one  of  the 
principle  hinderances  of  it.  We  did  not  need  the  example  of  Christ 
to  commend  earthly  grandeur  to  us ;  but  very  much  to  reconcile  us 
to  the  contrary,  and  to  make  us  esteem  holiness,  though  accompa- 
nied with  meanness.  Christ's  low  state  was  an  excellent  means  for 
that  end.  There  was  therefore  greatness,  even  in  His  meanness. 
Other  men  are  honorable  by  their  station  ;  but  Christ's  station  was 
made  honorable  by  Him;  He  has  made  poverty  and  meanness, 
joined  Avith  holiness,  to  be  a  state  of  dignity. 

Thus  Christ's  outward  meanness,  that  disguised  His  real  great- 
ness, was  in  itself  glorious,  because  of  the  design  of  it.  Yet  that 
meanness  did  not  wholly  becloud  it ;  many  beams  of  glory  shone 
through  it. 

His  birth  was  mean  on  earth  below ;  but  it  was  celebrated  with 
hallelujas  by  the  heavenly  host  in  the  air  above.  He  had  a  poor 
lodging,  but  a  star  lighted  visitants  to  it  from  distant  countries. 
Never  prince  had  such  visitants  so  conducted.  He  had  not  the 
magnificent  equipage  that  other  kings  have ;  but  He  was  attended 
with  multitudes  of  patients,  seeking  and  obtaining  healing  of  soul 
and  body.  That  was  more  true  greatness  than  if  He  had  been 
attended  with  crowds  of  princes.  He  made  the  dumb  that  at- 
tended Him  sing  His  praises,  and  the  lame  to  leap  for  joy ;  the 
deaf  to  hear  His  wonders,  and  the  blind  to  see  His  glory.     He  had 


aLORTINa    IN    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  251 

no  guard  of  soldiers,  nor  magnificeut  retinue  of  servants :  but,  as 
the  centurion,  that  liad  both,  acknowledged,  health  and  sickness, 
life  and  death,  took  orders  from  Him.  Even  the  winds  and  storms, 
which  no  earthly  power  can  control,  obeyed  Him ;  and  death  and 
the  grave  durst  not  refuse  to  deliver  up  their  prey  when  He  de- 
manded it.  He  did  not  walk  upon  tapestry ;  but  when  He  walked 
on  the  sea,  the  waters  supported  Him.  All  parts  of  the  creation, 
excepting  sinful  men,  honored  Him  as  their  Creator.  He  kept  no 
treasure ;  but  when  He.  had  occasion  for  money,  the  sea  sent  it  to 
Him  in  the  mouth  of  a  fish.  He  had  no  barns  nor  corn-fields ;  but 
when  He  inclined  to  make  a  feast,  a  few  small  loaves  covered  a  suffi- 
cient table  for  many  thousands.  None  of  all  the  monarchs  of  the 
world  ever  gave  such  entertainment.  By  these,  and  many  such 
things,  the  Redeemer's  glory  shone  through  His  meanness,  in  the 
several  parts  of  His  life.  Nor  was  it  wholly  clouded  at  His  death. 
He  had  not,  indeed,  that  fantastic  equipage  of  sorrow  that  other 
great  persons  have  on  such  occasions ;  but  the  frame  of  nature  sol- 
emnized the  death  of  its  Author ;_  heaven  and  earth  were  mourners. 
The  -sun  was  clad  in  black ;  and  if  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  were 
unmoved,  the  earth  itself  trembled  under  the  awful  load.  There 
were  few  to  pay  the  Jewish  compliment  of  rending  their  garments ; 
but  the  rocks  were  not  so  insensible — they  rent  their  bowels.  He 
had  not  a  grave  of  His  own ;  but  other  men's  graves  opened  to  Him. 
Death  .and  the  grave  might  be  proud  of  such  a  tenant  in  their  terri- 
tories ;  but  He  came  not  there  as  a  subject,  but  as  an  Invader — a 
Conqueror.  It  was  then  that  death,  the  king  of  terrors,  lost  his 
sting :  and  on  the  third  day,  the  Prince  of  life  triumphed  over  him, 
spoiling  death  and  the  grave.  This  last  particular,  however,  be- 
longs to  Christ's  exaltation  :  the  other  instances  show  a  part  of  the 
glory  of  His  humiliation,  but  it  is  a  small  part  of  it. 

The  glory  of  the  cross  of  Christ  which  we  are  chiefly  to  esteem, 
is  the  glory  of  God's  infinite  perfections  displayed  in  the  work  of 
redemption,  as  the  Apostle  expresses  it,  "  The  glory  of  God  in  the 
face  of  Jesus  Christ ;"  even  of  "  Christ  crucified."  It  is  this  which 
makes  any  other  object  glorious,  according  as  they  manifest  more  or 
less  of  the  perfections  of  God.  This  is  what  makes  the  work  of  cre- 
ation so  glorious.  The  heavens  declare  God's  glory,  and  the  firma- 
ment His  handiwork ;  and  we  are  inexcusable  for  not  taking  more 
pains  to  contemplate  God's  perfections  in  them — His  almighty  power 
and  incomprehensible  wisdom,  and  particularly  His  infinite  goodness. 
But  the  effects  of  the  Divine  goodness  in  the  works  of  creation  are 
only  temporal  favors ;  the  favors  purchased  to  us  by  the  cross  of 


252  JOHN    M'LAUEIN. 

Christ  are  eternal.  Besides,  althougli  the  works  of  creation  plainly 
show  that  God  is  in  Himself  good ;  yet  they  also  show  that  God  is 
just,  and  that  He  is  displeased  with  us  for  our  sins ;  nor  do  they 
point  out  to  us  the  way  how  we  may  be  reconciled  to  Him.  They 
publish  the  Creator's  glory.  They  publish  at  the  same  time  His 
laws,  and  our  obligations  to  obey  them.  Our  consciences  tell  us  we 
have  neglected  these  obligations,  violated  these  laws,  and  conse- 
quently incurred  the  Lawgiver's  displeasure.  His  works  declaring 
His  glory,  show  that  in  His  favor  is  life,  and  consequently  that  in 
His  displeasure  is  death  and  ruin.  Yea,  they  lay  us  in  some  meas- 
ure under  His  displeasure  already.  "Why  else  do  natural  causes 
give  so  much  trouble  in  life,  and  pain  in  death  ?  From  all  quarters 
the  works  of  God  revenge  the  quarrel  of  His  broken  law.  They 
give  these  frail  bodies  subsistence  for  a  time,  but  it  is  a  subsistence 
embittered  with  many  vexations  ;  and  at  last  they  crush  them  and 
dissolve  them  into  dust. 

The  face  of  nature,  then,  is  glorious  in  itself ;  but  it  is  overcast 
with  a  gloom  of  terror  to  us.  It  shows  the  glory  of  the  Judge  to  the 
criminal — the  glory  of  the  offended  Sovereign  to  the  guilty  rebel. 
This  is  not  the  way  to  give  comfort  and  relief  to  a  criminal ;  it  is 
not  the  way  to  make  him  glory  and  triumph.  Accordingly  the  ene- 
mies of  the  cross  of  Christ,  who  refuse  to  know  God  otherwise  than 
by  the  works  of  nature,  are  so  far  from  glorying  in  the  hopes  of 
enjoying  God  in  heaven,  that  they  renounce  all  those  great  expecta- 
tions, and  generally  deny  that  there  is  any  such  blessedness  to  be 
had.  Conscience  tells  us  we  are  rebels  against  God,  and  nature  does 
not  show  how  such  rebels  may  recover  His  favor ;  how,  in  such  a 
well-ordered  government  as  the  Divine  government  must  be,  the 
righteous  Judge  and  Lawgiver  may  be  glorified,  and  the  criminal 
escape ;  much  less  how  the  Judge  may  be  glorified^  and  the  criminal 
obtain  glory  likewise. 

The  language  of  nature,  though  it  be  plain  and  loud  in  proclaim- 
ing the  glory  of  the  Creator,  yet  it  is  dark  and  intricate  as  to  His 
inclination  toward  guilty  creatures.  It  neither  assures  peremptorily 
that  we  are  in  a  state  of  despair,  nor  gives  sure  footing  for  our  hopes. 
If  we  are  favorites,  whence  so  many  troubles  ?  If  we  are  hopeless 
criminals,  whence  so  many  favors  ?  Nature  shows  God's  glory,  and 
our  shame ;  His  law  our  duty,  and  consequently  our  danger ;  but 
about  the  way  to  escape  it  is  silent  and  dumb.  It  affords  many  mo- 
tives for  exciting  desires  after  God,  but  it  shows  not  the  way  to  get 
these  desires  satisfied.  Here,  in  the  text  is  an  object  which  gives  us 
better  intelligence.     It  directs  us  not  merely  to  seek  by  feeling  in 


GLORYING    IN    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  253 

the  dark,  if  haply  we  may  find,  but  to  seek  Him  so  as  to  certainly 
find  Him.  Unlikely  doctrine  to  a  carnal  mind  1  that  there  should 
be  more  of  God's  glory  manifested  to  us  in  the  face  of  Christ  cruci- 
fied, than  in  the  face  of  heaven  and  earth.  The  face  of  Christ !  in 
which  sense  discovers  nothing  but  marks  of  pain  and  disgrace  ;  that 
mangled  visage,  red  with  gore,  covered  with  marks  of  scorn,  swelled 
with  strokes,  and  pale  with  death  :  that  would  be  the  last  object  in 
which  the  carnal  mind  would  seek  to  see  the  glory  of  the  God  of 
life ;  a  visage  clouded  with  the  horror  of  death.  It  would  with  more 
pleasure  and  admiration  view  the  same  face  when  transfigured,  and 
shining  like  the  sun  in  its  strength.  Divine  glory  shone  indeed  then 
in  a  bright  manner,  in  that  face  on  the  mount,  but  not  so  brightly  as 
on  Mount  Calvary.  This  was  the  most  glorious  transfiguration  of 
the  two.  Though  all  the  light  in  the  world,  in  the  sun  and  stars, 
were  collected  together  in  one  stupendous  mass  of  light,  it  would  be 
but  darkness  to  the  glory  of  this  seemingly  dark  and  melancholy 
object ;  for  it  is  here,  as  the  Apostle  expresses  it,  we  all,  as  with 
open  face,  may  behold  the  glory  of  God. 

Here  shine  spotless  justice,  incomprehensible  wisdom,  and  infinite 
love,  all  at  once.  None  of  them  darkens  or  eclipses  the  other ;  every 
one  of  them  gives  a  luster  to  the  rest.  They  mingle  their  beams 
and  shine  with  united,  eternal  splendor  ;  the  just  Judge,  the  merci- 
ful Father,  and  the  wise  Governor.  No  other  object  gives  such  a 
display  of  all  these  perfections ;  yea,  all  the  objects  we  know  give 
not  such  a  display  as  any  one  of  them.  Nowhere  does  justice  appear 
so  awful,  mercy  so  amiable,  or  wisdom  so  profound. 

By  the  infinite  dignity  of  Christ's  person.  His  cross  gives  more 
honor  and  glory  to  the  law  and  justice  of  God,  than  all  the  other 
sufferings  that  ever  were  or  will  be  endured  in  the  world.  When 
the  Apostle  is  speaking  to  the  Eomans  of  the  Gospel,  he  does  not 
tell  them  only  of  God's  mercy,  but  also  of  His  j  ustice  revealed  by  it, 
God's  wrath  against  the  unrighteousness  of  men  is  chiefly  revealed 
by  the  righteousness  and  sufierings  of  Christ.  "  The  Lord  was 
pleased  for  His  righteousness'  sake."  Both  by  requiring  and  appoint- 
ing that  righteousness.  He  magnified  the  law,  and  made  it  honorable. 
And  though  that  righteousness  consist  in  obedience  and  sufferings 
which  continue  for  a  time,  yet  since  the  remembrance  of  them  will 
continue  forever,  the  cross  of  Christ  may  be  said  to  give  eternal  maj- 
esty and  honor  to  that  law,  which  is  satisfied ;  that  awful  law,  by 
which  the  universe  (which  is  God's  kingdom)  is  governed,  to  which 
the  principalities  and  powers  of  heaven  are  subject;  that  law,  which 
in  condemning  sm,  banished  the  devil  and  his  angels  from  heaven 


254  JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

our  first  parents  from  Paradise,  and  peace  from  the  earth.  Consider- 
ing, therefore,  that  God  is  the  Judge  and  Lawgiver  of  the  world,  it 
is  jDlain  that  His  glory  shines  with  unspeakable  brightness  in  the 
cross  of  Clirist,  as  the  punishment  of  sin.  But  this  is  the  very  thing 
that  hinders  the  lovers  of  sin  from  acknowledging  the  glory  of  the 
cross,  because  it  shows  so  much  of  God's  hatred  of  what  they  love. 
It  would  be  useful  for  removing  such  prej  udices,  to  consider,  that 
though  Christ's  sacrifice  shows  the  punishment  of  sin,  yet,  if  we  em-, 
brace  that  sacrifice,  it  only  shows  it  to  us.  It  takes  it  off  our  hands 
— it  leaves  us  no  more  to  do  with  it.  And  surely  the  beholding  our 
danger,  when  we  behold  it  as  prevented,  serves  rather  to  increase 
than  lessen  our  joy.  By  seeing  the  greatness  of  our  danger,  we  see 
the  greatness  of  our  deliverance.  The  cross  of  Christ  displays  the 
glory  of  infinite  justice,  but  not  of  justice  only. 

Here  shines  chiefly  the  glory  of  infinite  mercy.  There  is  noth- 
ing in  the  world  more  lovely  or  glorious  than  love  and  goodness  it- 
self; and  this  is  the  greatest  instance  of  it  that  can  be  conceived. 
God's  goodness  appears  in  all  His  works  ;  this  is  a  principal  part  of 
the  glory  of  the  creation.  We  are  taught  to  consider  this  lower 
world  as  a  convenient  habitation,  built  for  man  to  dwell  in  ;  but,  to 
allude  to  the  apostle's  expression,  this  gift  we  are  speaking  of  should 
be  accounted  more  worthy  of  honor  than  the  world,  "  inasmuch  as 
He  who  hath  builded  the  house  hath  more  honor  than  the  house." 

When  God  gave  us  His  Son,  He  gave  us  an  infinitely  greater  gift 
than  the  world.  The  Creator  is  infinitely  more  glorious  than  the 
creature,  and  the  Son  of  God  is  the  Creator  of  all  things.  God  can 
make  innumerable  worlds  by  the  word  of  His  mouth ;  He  has  but 
one  only  Son  ;  and  He  spared  not  His  only  Son,  but  gave  Him  up 
to  the  death  of  the  cross  for  us  all. 

God's  love  to  His  people  is  from  everlasting  to  everlasting ;  but 
from  everlasting  to  everlasting  there  is  no  manifestation  of  it  known, 
or  conceivable  by  us,  that  can  be  compared  to  this.  The  light  of 
the  sun  is  always  the  same,  but  it  shines  brightest  to  us  at  noon  :  the 
cross  of  Christ  was  the  noontide  of  everlasting  love,  the  meridian  splen- 
dor of  eternal  mercy.  There  were  many  bright  manifestations  of  the 
same  love  before,  but  they  were  like  the  light  of  the  morning,  that 
shines  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day  ;  and  that  perfect  day  was 
w^hen  Christ  was  on  the  cross,  when  darkness  covered  all  the  land. 

Comparisons  can  give  but  a  very  imperfect  view  of  this  love, 
which  passeth  knowledge.  Though  we  should  suppose  that  all  the 
love  of  all  the  men  that  ever  were,  or  will  be  on  the  earth,  and  all 
the  love  of  the  angels  in  heaven,  united  in  one  heart,  it  would  be  but 


GLORYINa    IN    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  £55 

a  cold  heart  to  that  which  was  pierced  by  the  soldier's  spear.  The 
Jews  saw  but  blood  and  water,  but  faith  can  discern  a  bright  ocean 
of  eternal  love  flowing  out  of  these  wounds.  We  may  have  some 
impression  of  the  glory  of  it,  by  considering  its  effects.  We  should 
consider  all  the  spiritual  and  eternal  blessings  received  by  God's  peo- 
ple for  four  thousand  years  before  Christ  was  crucified,  or  that  have 
been  received  since,  or  that  will  be  received  till  the  consummation 
of  all  things ;  all  the  deliverances  from  eternal  misery ;  all  the 
oceans  of  joy  in  heaven  ;  the  rivers  of  water  of  life,  to  be  enjoyed 
to  all  eternity,  by  multitudes  as  the  sand  of  the  sea-shore.  We 
should  consider  all  these  blessings  as  flowing  from  that  love  that  was 
displayed  in  the  cross  of  Christ. 

Here  shines  also  the  glory  of  the  incomprehensible  wisdom  of 
God,  which  consists  in  promoting  the  best  ends  by  the  fittest  means. 
The  ends  of  the  cross  are  best  in  themselves,  and  the  best  for  us  that 
can  be  conceived  :  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  man.  And 
the  means  by  which  it  advances  these  ends  are  so  fit  and  suitable, 
that  the  infinite  depth  of  contrivance  in  them  will  be  the  admiration 
of  the  universe  to  eternity. 

It  is  an  easy  thing  to  conceive  the  glory  of  the  Creator,  mani- 
fested in  the  good  of  an  innocent  creature ;  but  the  glory  of  the 
righteous  Judge,  manifested  in  the  good  of  the  guilty  criminal,  is  the 
peculiar  mysterious  wisdom  of  the  cross.  It  is  easy  to  perceive 
God's  righteousness  declared  in  the  punishment  of  sins  ;  the  cross 
alone  declares  "  His  righteousness  for  the  remission  of  sins."  It 
magnifies  justice  in  the  way  of  pardoning  sin,  and  mercy  in  the  way 
of  punishing  it.  It  shows  justice  more  awful  than  if  mercy  had 
been  excluded ;  and  mercy  more  amiable  than  if  justice  had  been 
dispensed  with.  It  magnifies  the  law,  and  makes  it  honorable.  It 
magnifies  tbe  criminal  who  broke  the  law ;  and  the  respect  put  upon 
the  law  makes  him  honorable  likewise.  Yea,  this  is  so  contrived, 
that  every  honor  done  to  the  criminal  is  an  honor  done  to  the  law ; 
and  all  the  respect  put  upon  the  law,  puts  respect  on  the  criminal. 
For  every  blessing  the  sinner  receives,  is  for  the  sake  of  obedience 
and  satisfaction  made  to  the  law ;  not  by  himself,  but  by  another, 
who  could  put  infinitely  greater  dignity  on  the  law  :  and  the  satis- 
faction of  that  other  for  the  sinner,  puts  the  greatest  dignity  on  him 
that  he  is  capable  of.  Both  the  law  and  the  sinner  may  "glory  in 
the  cross  of  Christ."  Both  of  them  receive  eternal  honor  and  glory 
by  it. 

The  glories  that  are  found  separately  in  the  other  works  of  God 
are  found  united  here.     The  joys  of  heaven  glorify  God's  goodness  ; 


256  JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

the  pains  of  hell  glorify  His  justice ;  the  cross  of  Christ  glorifies 
both  of  them,  in  a  more  remarkable  manner  than  heaven  or  hell 
glorifies  any  of  them.  There  is  more  remarkable  honor  done  to  the 
justice  of  God  by  the  sufierings  of  Christ,  than  by  the  torment  of 
devils  ;  and  there  is  a  more  remarkable  display  of  the  goodness  of 
God  in  the  redemption  of  sinners,  than  in  the  joy  of  angels  :  so  that 
"we  can  conceive  no  object,  in  which  we  can  discover  such  manifold 
wisdom,  of  so  deep  contrivance  for  advancing  the  glory  of  God. 

The  like  may  be  said  of  its  contrivance  for  the  good  of  man.  It 
heals  al]  his  diseases  ;  it  pardons  all  his  sins.  It  is  the  sacrifice  that 
removes  the  guilt  of  sin  ;  it  is  the  motive  that  removes  the  love  of 
sin.  It  mortifies  sin,  and  expiates  it.  It  atones  for  disobedience, 
and  it  makes  obedience  acceptable.  It  excites  to  obedience  ;  it  pur- 
chases strength  for  obedience.  It  makes  obedience  practicable ;  it 
makes  it  delightful ;  it  makes  it  in  a  manner  unavoidable — it  con- 
strains to  it.  It  is  not  only  the  motive  to  obedience,  but  the  pattern 
of  it.  It  satisfies  the  curse  of  the  law,  and  fulfills  the  commands  of 
it.  Love  is  the  fulfilhng  of  the  law  ;  the  sum  of  which  is,  the  love 
of  God,  and  of  our  neighbor.  The  cross  of  Christ  is  the  highest  in- 
stance of  both.  Christ's  sufferings  are  to  be  considered  as  actions. 
Never  action  gave  such  glory  to  God ;  never  action  did  such  good 
to  man.  And  it  is  the  way  to  show  our  love  to  God  and  man,  by 
promoting  the  glory  of  the  one,  and  the  good  of  the  other. 

Thus  the  sufferings  of  Christ  teach  us  our  duty  by  that  love 
whence  they  flowed,  and  that  good  for  which  they  were  designed. 
But  they  teach  us  not  only  by  the  design  of  them,  but  also  by  the 
manner  of  His  undergoing  them.  Submission  to  God,  and  forgive- 
ness of  our  enemies,  are  two  of  the  most  difficult  duties.  The  for- 
mer is  one  of  the  chief  expressions  of  love  to  God,  and  the  latter  of 
love  to  man.  But  the  highest  submission  is,  when  a  person  submits 
to  suffering,  though  free  from  guilt ;  and  the  highest  forgiveness  is, 
to  forgive  our  murderers,  especially  if  the  murderers  were  persons 
who  were  obliged  to  us.  As  if  a  person  not  only  should  forgive 
them  who  took  away  his  life,  even  though  they  owed  him  their  own 
lives ;  but  also  desire  others  to  forgive  them,  pray  for  them,  and  as 
much  as  possible  excuse  them.  This  was  the  manner  of  Christ's 
bearing  His  sufferings  :  "  Father,  Thy  will  be  done ;"  and,  "  Father, 
forgive  them ;  for  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

Thus  we  see  how  fit  a  means  the  cross  is  for  promoting  the  best 
ends — for  justification  and  sanctification.  It  would  be  too  long  to 
insist  here  in  showing  its  manifold  fitness  for  promoting  also  joy 
and  peace  here,  and  everlasting  happiness  hereafter :  for,  no  doubt, 


GLORYING    IN    THE    CROSS    OF    CERIST.  257 

it  will  be  a  great  part  of  future  happiness,  to  remember  tlie  way  it 
was  purchased,  and  to  see  the  Lamb  that  was  slain,  at  the  right 
hand  of  Him  who  gave  Him  for  that  end.  The  things  already  ad- 
duced show,  that  the  incomprehensible  wisdom  of  God  is  gloriously 
displayed  in  the  cross  of  Christ,  because  it  hath  such  amazing  con- 
trivance in  it  for  advancing  the  good  of  man,  as  well  as  the  glory 
of  God ;  for  that  is  the  design  of  it,  to  show  the  glory  of  God  and 
good-will  toward  man. 

But  it  is  not  only  the  glory  of  Divine  wisdom  that  shines  in  this 
blessed  object,  but  also  the  glory  of  Divine  power.  This,  to  them 
who  know  not  Christ,  is  no  small  paradox :  but  to  them  who  be- 
lieve, Christ  crucified  is  "the  power  of  God,  and  the  wisdom  of 
God."  The  Jews  thought  Christ's  crucifixion  a  demonstration  of 
His  want  of  power.  Hence  they  upbraided  Him,  that  He  who 
wrought  so  many  miracles,  suffered  Himself  to  hang  upon  the  cross. 
But  this  itself  was  the  greatest  miracle  of  all.  They  asked,  why  He 
who  saved  others,  saved  not  Himself?  They  named  the  reason, 
without  taking  heed  to  it.  That  was  the  very  reason  why  at  that 
time  He  saved  not  Himself,  because  He  saved  others ;  because  He 
was  willing  and  able  to  save  others.  The  motive  of  His  enduring 
the  cross  was  powerful — Divine  love  ;  stronger  than  death  ;  the  fruits 
of  it  powerful — Divine  gTace ;  the  power  of  God  to  salvation  ;  mak- 
ing new  creatures,  raising  souls  from  the  dead :  these  are  acts  of  om- 
nipotence. "We  are  ready  to  admire  chiefly  the  power  of  God  in 
the  visible  world ;  but  the  soul  of  man  is  a  far  nobler  creature  than 
it.  We  justly  admire  the  power  of  the  Creator  in  the  motion  of  the 
heavenly  bodies ;  but  the  motion  of  souls  toward  God  as  their  cen- 
ter, is  far  more  glorious :  the  effects  of  the  same  power,  far  more 
eminent,  and  far  more  lasting. 

The  wounds  of  Christ  seemed  effects  of  weakness ;  but  it  is  easy 
to  observe  incomparable  strength  appearing  in  them.  We  should 
consider  what  it  was  that  bruised  Him :  "  He  was  bruised  for  our 
iniquities."  The  Scripture  represents  them  as  a  great  burden  :  and 
describes  us  as  all  lying  helpless  under  it,  as  a  people  laden  with  ini- 
quity. Christ  bore  our  sins  in  His  own  body  on  the  tree ;  He  bore 
our  griefs,  and  carried  our  sorrows ;  not  these  we  feel  here  only,  but 
those  we  deserved  to  feel  hereafter:  "The  Lord  hath  laid  on  Him 
the  iniquity  of  us  all."  We  might  well  say,  with  Cain,  our  punish- 
ment was  more  than  we  were  able  to  bear.  This  might  be  said  to 
every  one  of  us  apart.  But  it  was  not  the  sins  of  one  that  He  bore: 
He  bore  the  sins  of  many ;  of  multitudes  as  the  sand  on  the  sea- 

17 


258  JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

shore :  and  the  sins  of  every  one  of  them  as  numerous.  This  was 
the  heaviest  and  most  terrible  weight  in  the  world. 

The  curse  of  the  law  was  a  weight  sufficient  to  crush  a  world. 
Thej  who  first  brought  it  on  themselves  found  it  so.  It  sunk  le- 
gions of  angels  who  excel  in  strength,  when  they  had  abused  that 
strength  against  the  law,  from  the  heaven  of  heavens  to  the  bottom- 
less pit.  The  same  weight  that  crushed  rebel  angels,  threatened 
man  for  joining  with  them.  Before  man  could  bear  it,  before  any 
person  could  have  his  own  portion  of  it,  it  behooved,  as  it  were, 
to  be  divided  into  numberless  parcels.  Man,  after  numberless  ages, 
would  have  borne  but  a  small  part  of  it.  "  The  wrath  to  come," 
would  have  been  always  wrath  to  come,  to  all  eternity ;  there 
would  have  been  still  infinitely  more  to  bear.  Christ  only  had 
strength  to  bear  it  all,  in  a  manner,  at  once ;  to  bear  it  all  alone. 
None  of  the  people  were  with  Him.  Our  burden  and  our  help  were 
laid  on  One  who  was  mighty  ;  and  His  bearing  them  was  a  glorious 
manifestation  of  His  might — of  the  noblest  kind  of  might — that  He 
was  "mighty  to  save." 

It  is  true,  that  load  bruised  Him  ;  but  we  should  not  be  sur- 
prised at  that,  if  we  considered  the  dreadfulness  of  the  shock. 
Could  we  conceive  the  weight  of  eternal  justice  ready  to  fall  down, 
like  lightning,  with  violence  upon  a  world  of  malefactors,  and  view 
that  sacred  body  interposed  betwixt  the  load  of  wrath  from  above, 
and  the  heirs  of  wrath  below,  we  should  not  wonder  at  these  bruises, 
we  should  not  despise  them.  We  should  consider  the  event,  had 
that  wrath  fallen  lower.  Had  it  met  with  no  obstacle,  it  would  have 
made  havoc  of  another  kind.  This  world  would  have  been  worse 
than  a  chaos,  and  been  covered  with  the  dismal  effects  of  vindictive 
justice,  and  Divine  righteous  vengeance. 

Although  His  sacred  flesh  was  both  mangled  and  marred  with 
that  dismal  load,  yet  we  should  consider  that  it  sustained  it.  Here 
was  incomparable  strength,  that  it  sustained  that  shock  which  would 
have  ground  mankind  into  powder ;  and  He  sustained  it  (as  was 
said  before)  alone.  He  let  no  part  of  it  fall  lower :  they  who  take 
sanctuary  under  this  blessed  covert,  are  so  safe,  that  they  have  no 
more  to  do  with  that  load  of  wrath  but  to  look  to  it.  To  allude  to 
the  Psalmist's  expressions:  *'It  shall  not  come  nigh  them;  only 
with  their  eyes  they  shall  behold,  and  see  the  reward  of  the  wicked." 
But  they  shall  see  it  given  to  that  righteous  One ;  and  all  that  in 
effect  is  left  to  them  in  this  matter,  is,  by  faith,  to  look  and  behold 
what  a  load  of  vengeance  was  hovering  over  their  guilty  heads ; 


GLORYING    IN    THE    GROSS    OP    CHRIST.  259 

and,  tliat  guiltless  and  spotless  body  being  interposed,  how  it  was 
crushed  in  an  awful  manner. 

But  it  is  the  end  of  the  conflict  that  shows  on  which  side  the 
victory  is.  In  that  dreadful  struggle,  Christ's  body  was  brought  as 
low  as  the  grave ;  but  though  the  righteous  fall,  He  rises  again. 
Death  was  undermost  in  the  struggle.  It  was  Christ  that  conquered 
in  falling,  and  completed  the  conquest  in  rising.  The  cause,  design, 
and  effects  of  these  wounds,  show  incomparable  power  and  strength 
appearing  in  them.  The  same  strength  appeared  in  His  behavior 
under  them  :  and  the  manner  in  which  He  bore  them,  we  see  in  the 
history  of  His  death.  He  bore  them  with  patience,  and  with  pity  and 
compassion  toward  others.  A  small  part  of  His  sorrow  would  have 
crushed  the  strongest  spirit  on  earth  to  death.  The  constitution  of 
man  is  not  able  to  bear  too  great  violence  of  joy  or  grief;  either  the 
one  or  the  other  is  sufficient  to  unhinge  our  frame.  Christ's  griefs 
were  absolutely  incomparable,  but  His  strength  was  a  match  for 
them. 

These  considerations  serve  to  show,  that  it  is  the  greatest  stupid- 
ity to  have  diminishing  thoughts  of  the  wounds  of  the  Eedeemer. 
Yet,  because  this  has  been  the  stumbling-block  to  the  Jews,  and 
foolishness  to  the  Gentiles,  and  many  professing  Christians  have  not 
suitable  impressions  of  it,  it  is  proper  to  consider  this  subject  a  lit- 
tle more  particularly.  It  is  useful  to  observe  how  the  Scripture 
represents  the  whole  of  Christ's  humiliation  as  one  great  action,  by 
which  He  defeated  the  enemies  of  God  and  man,  and  founded  a  glo- 
rious everlasting  monarchy.  The  prophets,  and  particularly  the 
Psalmist,  speak  so  much  of  Christ  as  a  powerful  Conqueror,  whose 
enemies  were  to  be  made  His  footstool,  that  the  Jews  do  still  con- 
tend that  their  Messiah  is  to  be  a  powerful  temporal  prince,  and  a 
great  fighter  of  battles ;  one  who  is  to  subdue  their  enemies  by  fire 
and  sword ;  and  by  whom  they  themselves  were  to  be  raised  above 
all  the  nations  of  the  world.  If  pride  and  the  love  of  earthly  things 
did  not  blind  them,  it  were  easy  to  see,  that  the  descriptions  of  the 
prophets  are  vastly  too  high  to  be  capable  of  so  low  a  meaning. 
This  will  be  evident  by  taking  a  short  view  of  them :  which  at  the 
same  time  will  show  the  glory  of  that  great  action  just  now  spoken 
of;  by  showing  the  greatness  of  the  design,  and  the  effects  of  it. 

The  prophets  ofttimes  speak  more  expressly  of  the  Messiah  as  a 
great  King,  which  is  a  name  of  the  greatest  earthly  dignity.  The 
hand  of  Pilate  was  overruled  to  write  that  title  of  honor  even  on 
His  cross.  The  glory  of  the  kingdom  that  He  was  to  found  is  rep- 
resented in  very  magnificent  expressions  by  the  prophet  Daniel. 


260  JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

Here  are  lively  representations  of  unparalleled  greatness,  an  ever- 
lasting kingdom  to  be  founded,  strong  obstacles  to  be  removed, 
powerful  enemies  to  be  defeated. 

It  is  useful  to  observe  the  universal  importance  of  tliis  design  ;  no 
part  of  the  universe  was  unconcerned  in  it. 

The  glory  of  the  Creator  was  eminently  to  be  displayed ;  all  the 
Divine  Persons  were  to  be  gloriously  manifested ;  the  Divine  attri- 
butes to  be  magnified ;  the  Divine  works  and  ways  to  be  honored. 
The  earth  was  to  be  redeemed,  hell  conquered,  heaven  purchased, 
the  law  to  be  magnified  and  established,  its  commandments  to 
be  fulfilled,  its  curse  to  be  suffered ;  the  law  was  to  be  satisfied,  and 
the  criminal  that  broke  it  to  be  saved,  and  his  tempter  and  ac- 
cuser to  be  defeated.  The  head  of  the  old  serpent  was  to  be  bruised, 
his  works  to  be  destroyed,  and  the  principalities  and  powers  of  dark- 
ness to  be  spoiled,  and  triumphed  over  openly.  The  principalities 
and  powers  of  heaven  were  to  receive  new  matter  of  everlasting  hal- 
lelujahs, and  new  companions  to  join  in  them  ;  the  fallen  angels  were 
to  lose  their  old  subjects,  and  the  blessed  angels  to  receive  new  fellow- 
citizens.  No  wonder  this  is  called  the  making  a  new  heaven  and  a  new 
earth  ;  and  even  the  face  of  hell  was  to  be  altered.  Surely  a  more 
glorious  design  can  not  be  conceived  ;  and  the  more  we  consider  it, 
the  more  we  may  see  the  greatness  of  the  action  that  accomplished  it. 

As  the  design  was  great,  the  preparations  were  solemn.  The 
stage  of  it  was  to  be  this  earth  ;  it  was  chiefly  concerned  in  it ;  it 
was  solemnly  prepared  for  it.  This  is  the  view  given  us  of  the 
providences  that  preceded  it.  They  fitted  the  stage  of  the  world  for 
the  great  event  in  the  fullness  of  time.  If  we  saw  clearly  the  whole 
chain  of  them,  we  should  see  how  they  pointed  toward  this,  as  their 
center,  and  how  they  contributed  to  honor  it — or  rather  it  reflected 
the  greatest  honor  upon  them.  The  forecited  prophecies  in  Daniel, 
besides  several  others,  are  instances  of  this:  they  show  how  the 
great  revolutions  in  the  heathen  world  were  subservient  to  this  de- 
sign, particularly  the  succession  of  the  four  monarchies  represented 
in  Nebuchadnezzar's  dream  :  their  rise  and  overthrow  were  subserv- 
ient to  the  rise  of  this  monarchy,  never  to  be  overthrown. 

We  see  but  a  small  part  of  the  chain  of  Providence,  and  even 
that  very  darkly ;  but  this  perhaps  is  worth  the  observing  briefly, 
that  universal  empire  came  gradually  from  the  eastern  to  the  western 
parts  of  the  world,  from  the  Assyrians  and  Persians,  to  the  Greeks 
and  Komans.  By  this  means  greater  communication  and  corre- 
spondence than  formerly  were  opened  between  distant  nations  of  the 
earth,  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  of  the  sun.     The  kingdom,  repre- 


GLORYING    IN    THE    CROSS    OP    CHRIST.  261 

sented  bj  the  stone  cut  out  of  the  mountain,  was  to  extend  to  both. 
Whatever  we  think  of  this,  it  is  certain  that  if  we  saw  the  plot  of  Prov- 
idence unfolded,  we  should  see  these  and  other  revolutions  contribut- 
ing to  the  fullness  of  time,  and  adjusting  the  world  to  that  state  and 
form  of  things  that  was  fittest  for  the  Redeemer's  appearance. 

These  were  a  part  of  the  preparations  for  the  work  in  view ;  but 
they  were  but  a  part  of  them :  for  all  the  sacrifices  offered  every 
morning  and  evening  for  so  many  ages,  were  preparations  for  it,  and 
shadows  of  it.  The  same  may  be  said  of  other  figures  and  types. 
The  Church  of  God,  for  four  thousand  years,  waited,  with  longing 
looks  for  this  salvation  of  the  Lord  :  they  were  refreshed  with  the 
sacrifices  that  prefigured  it.  The  heathens  themselves  had  their  sac- 
rifices. They  had  sinfully  lost  the  tradition  of  the  true  religion  and 
the  Messiah,  handed  down  from  Noah ;  yet  Providence  ordered  it 
so  that  they  did  not  wholly  lose  the  right  of  sacrificing.  There  is 
reason  to  acknowledge  a  particular  Providence  preserving  tradition 
in  this  point ;  for  how  otherwise  could  it  enter  into  men's  heads  to 
serve  their  gods  by  sacrificing  their  beasts  ?  It  was  useful  that  the 
world  should  not  be  entirely  unacquainted  with  the  notion  of  a  sacri- 
fice. The  substitution  of  the  innocent  in  the  room  of  the  guilty, 
pointed  toward  this  great  oblation,  which  was  to  make  all  others  to 
cease.  The  predictions  of  the  prophets  in  different  ages,  from  Moses 
to  Malachi,  were  also  preparations  for  this  great  event.  John  the 
Baptist  appeared  as  the  morning-star,  the  harbinger  of  the  Day- 
spring  from  on  high  :  it  was  his  particular  office  to  prepare  the  way 
of  the  Lord  before  Him.  The  evidence  of  the  prophecies  was 
bright :  the  Jews  saw  the  time  approaching ;  their  expectations 
were  big.  Counterfeit  Messiahs  took  advantage  of  it :  and  not  only 
the  Jews,  but  even  the  heathens,  probably  by  report  from  them,  had 
a  notion  of  an  incomparably  great  person  who  was  to  appear  about 
that  time.  These,  besides  many  other  great  things,  serve  to  show 
what  glorious  preparations  and  jDomp  went  before  the  great  work  we 
are  speaking  of. 

Here  it  may  perhaps  occur  to  some,  that  it  is  strange  an  action 
that  had  such  great  preparations  before  it  happened,  was  so  little  ob- 
served when  it  did  happen.  Strictly  speaking,  this  was  not  true. 
It  was  not  much  noticed,  indeed,  among  blind  and  ignorant  men 
— this  was  foretold;  but  it  had  a  noble  theater — the  whole  uni- 
verse were,  in  effect,  spectators  of  it.  The  Scripture  teacheth  us  to 
reflect  on  this  ;  particularly  to  consider  the  principalities  and  powers 
in  heavenly  places,  as  attentive  lookers  on  this  glorious  performance. 
We  may  infer  this  from  Eph.  iii.  10,  besides  other  Scriptures. 


262  JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

These  morning-stars  shouted  for  joj,  and  sang  together  at  the 
old  creation.  This  was  a  new  creation  to  sing  at ;  a  more  amazing 
spectacle  than  the  old.  In  that,  the  Son  of  God  acted  in  the  form 
of  God ;  now  He  was  to  act  the  low  form  of  a  servant.  Kor  was 
that  the  lowest  part  of  it ;  He  was  to  suffer  in  the  form  of  a  criminal ; 
the  Judge  in  the  form  of  a  malefactor ;  the  Lawgiver  in  the  room  of 
the  rebel.  The  creation  was  a  mean  theater  for  so  great  an  event, 
and  the  noblest  creatures  unworthy  judges  of  such  an  incomprehen- 
sible performance:  its  true  glorj  was  the  approbation  of  its  infinite 
Contriver,  and  that  He,  at  whose  command  it  was  done,  was  fully 
well  pleased  with  it. 

Yet  to  us,  on  whose  natures  example  has  so  much  influence,  it 
may  be  useful  to  consider  the  honorable  crowd  of  admirers  and  spec- 
tators that  this  jDcrformance  had  ;  and  to  reflect  how  Heaven  beheld 
with  veneration  what  was  treated  on  earth  with  contempt.  It  was  a 
large  tkeater — multitudes  as  sand  on  the  sea-shore — a  glorious  com- 
pany. In  Scripture,  angels,  in  comparison  of  men,  are  called  gods. 
We  are  not  sensible  of  their  glory,  which  struck  prophets  almost 
dead  with  fear,  and  tempted  an  apostle  to  idolatry ;  but  these,  when 
the  First-begotten  is  brought  into  the  world — all  these  gods  are 
commanded  to  worship  Him.  The  place  of  Scripture  where  angels 
are  called  gods,  is  the  place  where  they  are  commanded  to  worship 
Christ :  and,  according  to  the  same  apostle,  it  was  a  special  time  of 
His  receiving  this  glory  from  the  hosts  of  heaven,  when  His  glory 
was  to  be  vailed  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth.  It  is  evident 
that  they  were  spectators  of  all  that  He  did  in  that  state,  and  no 
doubt  they  were  attentive  spectators ;  they  desired  to  look,  as  it 
were,  with  outstretched  necks,  into  these  things.  Nor  could  they  be 
unconcerned  spectator :  they  were,  on  divers  accounts,  interested. 
They  did  not  not  need  a  redemption  themselves ;  but  they  delighted 
in  ours :  they  loved  Christ,  and  they  loved  His  people :  their  love 
interested  them  in  the  glory  of  the  one  and  the  other.  All  we  know 
of  their  work  and  ofiice,  as  Luther  expresses  it,  "is  to  sing  in 
heaven,  and  minister  on  earth ;"  our  Tedemi:)tion  gave  occasion  for 
both.  They  sang  for  joy  when  it  began  at  Christ's  birth ;  they  went 
with  gladness  on  messages  of  it  beforehand  to  the  prophets,  and  to 
to  the  Virgin  Mary ;  they  fed  Christ  in  the  desert ;  they  attended 
Him  in  His  agony,  and  at  His  resurrection  ;  and  they  accompauiel 
Him  at  His  ascension.  They  were  concerned  to  look  into  these 
things  in  time,  that  were  to  be  remembered  to  all  eternity ;  and  into 
that  performance  on  earth,  that  was  to  be  the  matter  of  eternal  hal- 
lelujahs in  heaven. 


GLORYING    IN    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  263 

It  sliould  not  therefore  hinder  our  esteem  of  this  great  work, 
that  the  great  men  on  earth  took  no  notice  of  it.  They  were  but 
mean  and  blind,  ignorant  and  vulgar,  compared  to  the  powers  and 
thrones  just  now  mentioned,  who  beheld  it  with  veneration.  It  is 
no  disparagement  to  an  excellent  performance,  that  it  is  not  admired 
by  ignorant  persons  who  do  not  understand  it. 

The  principalities  in  heaven  understood,  and  therefore  admired. 
Nor  were  the  j)rincipalities  and  powers  of  darkness  wholly  ignorant 
of  it :  their  example  should  not  be  a  pattern  to  us ;  but  what  they 
beheld  with  anguish  we  should  behold  vnih  transport.  Their  plot 
was  to  make  the  earth,  if  possible,  a  province  of  hell.  They  had 
heard  of  that  glorious  counterplot ;  they  were  alarmed  at  the  harbin- 
gers of  it ;  they  looked  on  and  saw  their  plot,  step  by  step,  defeated, 
and  the  projects  of  eternal  mercy  go  on.  All  the  universe,  therefore, 
were  interested  on-lookers  at  this  blessed  undertaking.  Heaven 
looked  on  with  joy,  and  hell  with  terror,  to  observe  the  event  of  an 
enterprise  that  was  contrived  from  everlasting,  expected  since  the 
fall  of  man,  and  that  was  to  be  celebrated  to  all  eternity. 

Thus  Ave  have  before  us  several  things  that  show  the  glory  of  the 
performance  in  view;  the  design,  of  universal  importance;  the  prejM- 
ration,  incomparably  solemn ;  a  company  of  the  most  honorable, 
attentive  spectators.  As  to  the  performance  itself,  it  is  plain  it  is  not 
a  subject  for  the  tongues  of  men.  The  tongues  of  men  are  not  for  a 
subject  above  the  thoughts  of  angels;  they  are  but  desiring  to  look 
into  it ;  they  have  not  seen  fully  through  it :  that  is  the  work  of 
eternity.  Men  may  speak  and  write  of  it,  but  it  is  not  so  proper  to 
describe  it,  as  to  tell  that  it  can  not  be  described.  We  may  write 
about  it,  but  if  all  its  glory  were  described,  the  world  would  not  con- 
tain its  books.  We  may  speak  of  it,  but  the  most  we  can  say  about 
it  is  to  say  that  it  is  unspeakable ;  and  the  most  that  we  know  is, 
that  it  passeth  knowledge.  It  is  He  that  performed  this  work  that 
can  truly  declare  it ;  it  is  He  who  contrived  it  that  can  describe  it. 
He  it  is  who  knows  it.  None  kuoweth  the  Father  but  the  Son,  and 
he  to  whom  He  shall  reveal  Him.  It  is  from  Him  we  should  seek 
this  knowledge.  What  of  it  is  to  be  had  here  is  but  in  part,  but  it 
leads  us  to  the  place  where  it  will  be  perfect.  Here  we  think  as 
children,  we  speak  as  children,  yet  we  are  not  therefore  to  neglect 
thinking  or  speaking  of  it.  Our  thoughts  are  useless  without  con- 
templating it,  our  speech  useless  without  praising  it.  The  rest  of 
the  history  of  the  world,  except  as  it  relates  to  this,  is  but  a  history 
of  trifles  or  confusion — dreams  and  vapors  of  sick-brained  men. 
What  we  know  of  it  here  is  but  little,  but  that  little  incomparably 


264:  JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

transcends  all  other  knowledge,  and  all  other  earthly  things  are  but 
loss  and  dung  to  it.  The  least  we  can  do,  is,  with  the  angels,  to 
desire  to  look  into  these  things ;  and  we  should  put  up  these  desires 
to  Him  who  can  satisfy  them,  that  He  may  shine  into  our  hearts  by 
"  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God."  The  true  object 
of  this  knowledge  is  the  glory  of  God,  the  means  of  obtaining  it  is 
light  shining  from  God,  and  as  to  the  place  into  which  it  shines,  it 
is  into  our  hearts.  We  are  therefore  to  desire  that  light  from  Him 
who  is  light  itself.  But  our  prayers  should  be  joined  with  other 
means,  particularly  that  meditation  which  Paul  recommends  to  Tim- 
othy. We  ought  to  meditate  on  these  things,  so  as  to  give  ourselves 
wholly  to  them.  Our  meditation  should  be  as  lively  and  as  like  to 
seeing  the  object  before  us  as  possible.  But  it  is  not  by  strength  of 
imagination  that  the  soul  is  profited  in  this  case,  but  by  having  the 
eyes  of  the  understanding  enlightened. 

The  makers  and  worshipers  of  images  pretend  to  help  us  in  this 
matter  by  pictures  presented  to  the  eye  of  the  body ;  but  it  is  not 
the  eye  of  sense,  or  force  of  imagination,  but  the  eye  of  faith,  that 
can  give  us  true  notions  and  right  conceptions  of  this  object.  Men 
may  paint  Christ's  outward  sufferings,  but  not  that  inward  excellency 
from  whence  their  virtue  flowed,  namefy.  His  glory  in  Himself,  and 
His  goodness  to  us.  Men  may  paint  one  crucified,  but  how  can  that 
distinguish  the  Saviour  from  the  criminals  on  each  side  of  Him? 
We  may  paint  His  hands  and  His  feet  fixed  to  the  cross,  but  who 
can  paint  how  those  hands  used  always  to  be  stretched  forth  for 
relieving  the  afflicted,  and  curing  the  diseased  ?  or  how  those  feet 
went  always  about  doing  good  ?  and  how  they  cure  more  diseases, 
and  do  more  good  now  than  ever !  We  may  paint  the  outward  ap- 
pearance of  His  sufferings,  but  not  the  inward  bitterness,  or  invisible 
causes  of  them.  Men  can  paint  the  cursed  tree,  but  not  the  curse  of 
the  law  that  made  it  so.  Men  can  paint  Christ  bearing  the  cross  to 
Calvary,  but  not  Christ  bearing  the  sins  of  many.  We  may  describe 
the  nails  piercing  His  sacred  flesh,  but  who  can  describe  the  eternal 
justice,  piercing  both  flesh  and  spirit  ?  We  may  describe  the  sol- 
dier's spear,  but  not  the  arrows  of  the  Almighty ;  the  cup  of  vinegar 
which  He  but  tasted,  but  not  the  cup  of  wrath  which  He  drank  out 
to  the  lowest  dregs  ;  the  derision  of  the  Jews,  but  not  the  desertion 
of  the  Almighty  forsaking  His  Son,  that  He  might  never  forsake  us, 
who  were  His  enemies. 

The  sorrows  He  suffered,  and  the  benefits  He  purchased,  are 
equally  beyond  description.  Though  we  describe  His  hands  and 
His  feet  mangled  and  pierced,  who  can  describe  how  in  one  hand,  as 


GLORYING    IN    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  265 

it  were,  He  grasped  multitudes  of  souls  ready  to  sink  into  ruin,  and 
in  the  other  hand  an  everlasting  inheritance  to  give  them  ?  or  how 
these  bruised  feet  crushed  the  old  Serpent's  head,  and  trampled  on 
death  and  hell,  and  sin  the  author  of  both  ?  "We  may  describe  the 
blood  issuing  from  His  body,  but  not  the  waters  of  life  streaming 
from  the  same  source — oceans  of  spiritual  and  eternal  blessings.  We 
may  paint  how  that  blood  covered  His  body,  but  not  how  it  sprinkles 
the  souls  of  others,  yea,  sprinkles  many  nations.  We  may  paint  the 
crown  of  thorns  He  wore,  but  not  the  crown  of  glory  He  purchased. 
Happy  were  it  for  us  if  our  faith  had  as  lively  views  of  this  object, 
as  our  imagination  ofttimes  has  of  incomparably  less  important 
objects !  then  would  the  pale  face  of  our  Saviour  show  more  power- 
ful attractions  than  all  the  brightest  objects  in  nature  besides.  Not- 
withstanding the  gloomy  aspect  of  death,  it  would  discover  such 
transcendent  majesty  as  would  make  all  the  glory  in  the  world  lose 
its  relish  with  us :  we  should  see  then,  indeed,  the  awful  frowns  of 
justice,  but  these  frowns  are  not  at  us,  but  at  our  enemies — our  mur- 
derers— that  is,  our  sius.  The  cross  shows  Christ  pitying  His  own 
murderers,  but  it  shows  no  pity  to  our  murderers,  therefore  we  may 
see  the  majesty  of  eternal  justice  tempered  with  the  mildness  of  infi- 
nite compassion.  Infinite  pity  is  an  object  worth  looking  at,  espe- 
cially by  creatures  in  distress  and  danger.  There  Death  doth  appear 
in  state,  as  the  executioner  of  the  law,  but  there  he  also  appears 
deprived  of  his  sting  with  regard  to  us.  There  we  may  hear  also 
the  sweetest  melody  in  the  world  to  the  awakened  sinner ;  that 
peace-speaking  blood  that  speaks  better  things  than  that  of  Abel ; 
the  sweetest  and  loudest  voice  in  the  world — louder  than  the  thunder 
of  Sinai.  Its  voice  reacheth  heaven  and  earth,  pleading  with  God 
in  behalf  of  men,  and  beseeching  men  to  be  reconciled  to  God; 
speaking  the  most  comfortable  and  the  most  seasonable  things  in  the 
world  to  objects  in  distress  and  danger — salvation  and  deliverance. 

Of  the  various  views  we  can  take  of  this  blessed  Avork,  this  is  the 
most  suitable — to  consider  it  as  the  most  glorious  deliverance  that 
ever  was  or  will  be.  Other  remarkable  deliverances  of  God's  people 
are  considered  as  shadows  and  figures  of  this.  Moses,  Joshua,  David, 
and  Zerubbabel,  were  types  of  this  great  Joshua,  According  to  His 
name,  so  is  He,  Jesus,  a  Deliverer,  The  number  of  the  persons 
delivered  shows  the  glory  of  this  delivery  to  be  unparalleled.  It  was 
but  one  single  nation  that  Moses  delivered,  though  indeed  it  was  a 
glorious  deliverance,  relieving  six  hundred  thousand  at  once,  and  a 
great  deal  more ;  but  this  was  incomparably  more  extensive.  The 
Apostle  John  calls  the  multitude   of  the  redeemed  "  a  multitude 


266  JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

which  no  man  could  number,  of  all  nations,  and  kindreds,  and  peo- 
ple, and  tongues."  The  unparalleled  glory  of  this  deliverance  appears, 
not  only  in  the  number  of  the  delivered,  but  also  in  the  nature  ot  the 
deliverance.  It  was  not  men's  bodies  only  that  He  delivered,  but 
immortal  souls,  more  valuable  than  the  world.  It  was  not  from  such 
a  bondage  as  that  of  Egypt,  but  one  as  far  beyond  it  as  eternal  mis- 
ery is  worse  than  temporal  bodily  toil :  so  that  nothing  can  equal 
the  wretchedness  of  the  state  from  which  they  are  delivered,  but  the 
blessedness  of  that  to  which  they  are  brought. 

But  here  we  should  not  forget  the  opposition  made  against  this 
deliverance  :  it  was  the  greatest  that  can  withstand  any  good  design. 
The  apostle  teaches  us  to  consider  the  opposition  of  llcsh  and  blood 
as  far  inferior  to  that  of  principalities  and  powers,  and  spiritual 
wickedness  in  high  places.  The  devil  is  called  "  the  god  of  this 
world;"  and  himself  and  his  angels,  "  the  rulers  of  the  darkness  of 
this  world."  They  had  obtained  a  dominion  over  the  world  (except- 
ing that  small  corner  Judea),  for  many  ages,  by  the  consent  of  the 
inhabitants.  They  found  them  not  only  pliable,  but  fond  of  their 
chains,  and  in  love  with  their  bondage.  But  they  had  heard  of  this 
intended  enterprise  of  supreme  power  and  mercy,  this  invasion  and 
descent  upon  their  dominions ;  they  had  heard  of  the  design  of 
bruising  their  head,  overturning  their  government,  making  their 
slaves  to  revolt.  Long  experience  had  made  them  expert  in  the 
black  art  of  perdition  ;  long  success  made  them  confident ;  and  their 
malice  still  pushed  them  on  to  opposition,  whatever  might  be  the 
success.  As  they  were  no  doubt  apprised  of  this  designed  deliver- 
ance, and  alarmed  at  the  signs  of  its  approach,  they  made  all  prepara- 
tions to  opi^ose  it ;  mustered  all  their  forces ;  employed  all  their 
skill ;  and,  as  all  was  at  stake,  made  their  last  efforts  for  a  kind  of 
decisive  engagement.  They  armed  every  jDroper  instrument,  and 
set  every  engine  of  spiritual  destruction  at  work  ;  temptations,  perse- 
cutions, violence,  slander,  treachery,  counterfeit  Messiahs,  and  the 
like. 

Their  Adversary  appeared  in  a  form  that  did  not  seem  terrible  ; 
not  only  as  a  man,  but  as  one  "  despised  of  the  people,"  accounted 
as  ''  a  worm,  and  no  man,"  but  this  made  the  event  more  glorious. 
It  was  a  spectacle  worth  the  admiration  of  the  universe,  to  see  the 
despised  Galilean  turn  all  the  artillery  of  hell  back  upon  itself ;  to 
see  One  in  the  likeness  of  the  Son  of  Man,  wresting  the  keys  of  hell 
and  death  out  of  the  hand  of  the  devil ;  to  see  Ilim  entangling  the 
rulers  of  darkness  in  their  own  nets ;  and  making  them  ruin  their 
designs  with  their  own  stratagems.     They  made  one  disciple  betray 


GLORYING    IN    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  £67 

Him,  nnd  another  deny  Ilim  ;  they  made  the  Jews  accuse  Ilim,  and 
the  Eomans  crucify  Him.  But  the  Wonderful  Counselor  was  more 
than  a  match  for  the  old  Serpent,  and  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah 
too  hard  for  the  roaring  lion.  The  devices  of  these  powers  of  dark- 
ness were,  in  the  event,  made  means  of  spoiling  and  triumphing  over 
themselves.  The  greatest  cruelty  of  devils  and  their  instruments, 
was  made  subservient  to  the  designs  of  the  infinite  mercy  of  God ; 
and  that  hideous  sin  of  the  sons  of  men,  overruled  in  a  perfectly 
holy  manner,  for  making  an  end  of  sin,  and  bringing  in  everlasting 
righteousness.  The  opposition  made  to  this  deliverance  did  but  ad- 
vance its  glory ;  particularly  the  opposition  it  met  with  from  those 
for  whose  good  it  was  intended,  that  is,  sinners  themselves :  this 
served  to  enhance  the  glory  of  mysterious  long-suffering  and  mercy. 

It  would  take  a  long  time  to  insist  on  all  the  opposition  which 
this  Deliverer  met  with,  both  from  the  enemies  of  sinners,  and  from 
sinners  themselves  ;  but  at  last  He  weatliored  the  storm,  surmounted 
difliculties,  led  captivity  captive,  obtained  a  perfect  conquest,  pur- 
chased an  everlasting  inheritance,  founded  an  everlasting  kingdom, 
triumphed  on  the  cross,  and  died  with  the  publication  of  His  victory 
in  His  mouth,  "  It  is  finished." 

The  world  is  represented  as  silent  before  the  Lord,  when  He  rose 
up  to  work  this  great  deliverance;  and,  as  was  shown  before,  no 
part  of  the  world  was  unconcerned  in  it.  The  expectation  was  great, 
but  the  performance  could  not  but  surpass  it.  Every  part  of  it  was 
perfect,  and  every  circumstance  graceful ;  nothing  deficient,  nothing 
superflous,  nothing  but  what  became  the  dignity  of  the  Person,  and 
the  eternal  wisdom  of  the  contrivance.  Every  thing  was  suited  to 
the  glorious  design,  and  all  the  means  proportioned  to  the  end.  The 
foundation  of  the  everlasting  kingdom  was  laid,  before  it  was  ob- 
served by  the  men  that  opposed  it ;  and  so  laid  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  the  gates  of  hell  to  prevail  against  it ;  all  things  adjusted  for 
completing  the  deliverance,  and  for  securing  it  against  all  endeavors 
and  attempts  to  overturn  it.  The  great  Deliverer,  in  that  low  dis- 
guise, wrought  through  His  design,  so  as  none  could  oppose  it,  with- 
out advancing  it  to  the  full  satisfaction  of  that  infinite  wisdom  that 
devised  it,  and  the  eternal  admiration  of  the  creatures  that  beheld  it. 

The  Father  was  well  pleased ;  heaven  and  earth  rejoiced,  and 
were  astonished ;  the  powers  of  hell  fell  down  like  lightning.  In 
heaven,  loud  acclamations  and  applauses,  and  new  songs  of  praises 
began,  that  are  not  ended  yet,  and  never  will — they  will  still  in- 
crease. Still,  new  redeemed  criminals  from  the  earth,  saved  from 
the  gates  of  hell,  and  entering  the  gates  of  heaven,  with  a  new  song 


268  JOHN    M'LAURIN. 

of  praise  in  their  mouths,  add  to  the  ever-growing  melod}^,  of  which 
they  shall  never  be  weary :  for  that  is  their  rest,  their  labor  of  love ; 
never  to  rest,  day  nor  night,  giving  praise  and  glory  to  Him  that 
sits  on  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  at  His  right  hand ;  who  re- 
deemed them  from  all  nations  and  tongues,  washing  them  in  His 
own  blood,  and  making  them  kings  and  priests  unto  God. 

But  still,  an  objection  may  be  made  concerning  the  little  honor 
and  resj)ect  this  work  met  with  on  earth,  where  it  was  performed. 
This,  duly  considered,  instead  of  being  an  objection,  is  a  commenda- 
tion of  it.  Sin  had  so  corrupted  the  taste  of  mankind,  that  it  had 
been  a  kind  of  reflection  on  this  work,  if  it  had  suited  it.  Herein 
the  beauty  of  it  appears,  that  it  was  above  that  depraved,  wretched 
state  which  it  was  designed  to  cure  ;  and  that  it  did  actually  work 
that  change  on  innumerable  multitudes  of  all  nations. 

If  the  cross  of  Christ  met  with  such  contempt  on  earth,  it  met 
also  with  incomparable  honor.  It  made  the  greatest  revolution  in 
the  world  that  ever  happened  since  the  creation,  or  that  will  ever 
happen  till  Shiloh  come  again,;  a  more  glorious,  a  more  lasting 
change  than  ever  was  produced  by  all  the  princes  and  conquerors  in 
the  world.  It  conquered  multitudes  of  souls,  and  established  a 
sovereignty  over  men's  thoughts,  wills,  and  affections.  This  was  a 
conquest  to  which  human  power  hath  no  proportion.  Persecutors 
turned  apostles ;  and  vast  numbers  of  pagans,  after  knowing  the 
cross  of  Christ,  suffered  death  and  torments  cheerfully,  to  honor  it. 
The  growing  light  shone  from  east  to  west,  and  opposition  w^as  not 
only  useless,  but  subservient  to  it.  The  changes  it  produced  are 
sometimes  described  by  the  prophets  in  the  most  magnificent  expres- 
sions. Thus,  for  instance,  it  turned  the  parched  grounds  into  pools 
of  water ;  made  the  habitations  of  dragons  to  become  places  of 
grass,  and  reeds,  and  rushes  ;  made  wildernesses  to  bud  and  blossom 
as  the  rose.  It  wrought  this  change  among  us  in  the  utmost  isles 
of  the  Gentiles.  We  ought  to  compare  our  present  privileges  with 
the  state  of  our  forefathers,  before  they  knew  this  blessed  object ; 
and  we  shall  find  it  owing  to  the  glory  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  that 
we,  who  worship  the  living  God,  in  order  to  the  eternal  enjoyment 
of  Him,  are  not  worshiping  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  or  sacrificing 
to  idols. 

But  the  chief  effects  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  and  which  show  most 
of  its  glory,  are  its  inward  effects  on  the  souls  of  men.  There,  as 
was  before  hinted,  it  makes  a  new  creation.  Christ  is  formed 
in  them,  the  source  and  the  hope  of  glory.  This  is  a  glorious 
workmanship,  the  image  of  God  on  the  soul  of  man.     But  since 


GLORYINa    IN    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  269 

these  effects  of  the  cross  of  Christ  are  secret,  and  the  shame  put  upon 
it  ofttimes  too  pubhc,  and  since  human  nature  is  so  much  influenced 
by  example,  it  will  be  useful  to  take  such  a  view  of  the  honor  done 
to  this  object,  as  may  arm  us  against  the  bad  example  of  stuj^id  un- 
believers. 

The  cross  of  Christ  is  an  object  of  such  incomparable  brightness, 
that  it  spreads  a  glory  round  it  to  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  all  the 
corners  of  the  universe,  all  the  generations  of  time,  and  all  the  ages 
of  eternity.  The  greatest  actions  or  events  that  ever  happened  on 
earth,  filled  with  their  splendor  and  influence  but  a  moment  of  time 
and  a  point  of  space  ;  the  splendor  of  this  great  object  fills  immens- 
ity and  eternity.  K  we  take  a  right  view  of  its  glory,  we  shall  see 
it,  contemplated  with  attention,  spreading  influence,  and  attracting 
looks  from  times  past,  present  and  to  come  ;  from  heaven,  earth,  and 
hell ;  angels,  saints,  and  devils.  "We  shall  see  it  to  be  both  the  ob- 
ject of  the  deepest  admiration  of  the  creatures,  and  the  perfect  ap- 
probation of  the  infinite  Creator.  We  shall  see  the  best  part  of  man- 
kind, the  Church  of  God,  for  four  thousand  years,  looking  forward 
to  it  before  it  happened  ;  new  generations,  yet  unborn,  rising  up  to 
admire  and  honor  it  in  continual  succession,  till  time  shall  be  no 
more  ;  innumerable  multitudes  of  angels  and  saints  looking  back  to 
it  with  holy  transport,  to  the  remotest  ages  of  eternity.  Other  glories 
decay  by  length  of  time ;  if  the  s|)lendor  of  this  object  change,  it 
will  be  only  by  increasing.  The  visible  sun  will  spend  his  beams  in 
process  of  time,  and,  as  it  were,  grow  dim  with  age  ;  this  object 
hath  a  rich  stock  of  beams  which  eternity  can  not  exhaust.  If  saints 
and  angels  grow  in  knowledge,  the  splendor  of  this  object  will  be 
still  increasing.  It  is  unbelief  that  intercepts  its  beams.  Unbelief 
takes  place  only  on  earth  :  there  is  no  such  thing  in  heaven  or  in 
hell.  It  will  be  a  great  part  of  future  blessedness,  to  remember  the 
object  that  purchased  it ;  and  of  future  punishment,  to  remember 
the  object  that  offered  deliverance  from  it.  It  will  add  hfe  to  the 
beams  of  love  in  heaven,  and  make  the  flames  of  hell  burn  fiercer. 
Its  beams  will  not  only  adorn  the  regions  of  light,  but  pierce  the 
regions  of  darkness.  It  will  be  the  desire  of  the  saints  in  light,  and 
the  great  eye-sore  of  the  prince  of  darkness  and  his  subjects. 

Its  glory  produces  powerful  effects  wherever  it  shines.  They 
who  behold  this  glory  are  transformed  into  the  same  image. 
An  Ethiopian  may  look  long  enough  to  the  visible  sun  before  it 
change  his  black  color ;  but  this  does  it.  It  melts  cold  and  frozen 
hearts ;  it  breaks  stony  hearts ;  it  pierces  adamants ;  it  penetrates 
through  thick  darkness.     How  justly  is  it  called  marvelous  light ! 


270  JOHN    AI'LAURIN. 

It  gives  eyes  to  the  blind  to  look  to  itself;  and  not  only  to  the  blind, 
but  to  the  dead.  It  is  the  light  of  life :  a  powerful  light.  Its  energy 
is  beyond  the  force  of  thunder ;  and  it  is  more  mild  than  the  dew 
on  the  tender  grass. 

But  it  is  impossible  fully  to  describe  all  its  effects,  unless  we 
could  fully  reckon  up  all  the  spiritual  and  eternal  evils  it  prevents, 
all  the  riches  of  grace  and  glory  it  purchases,  and  all  the  Divine 
perfections  it  displays.  It  has  this  peculiar  to  it,  that  as  it  is  full  of 
glory  itself,  it  communicates  glory  to  all  that  behold  it  aright.  It 
gives  them  a  glorious  robe  of  righteousness ;  their  God  is  their 
glory  ;  it  calls  them  to  glory  and  virtue ;  it  gives  them  the  Spirit  of 
God  and  of  glory ;  it  gives  them  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory, 
here,  and  an  exceeding  great  and  eternal  weight  of  glory  hereafter. 

It  communicates  a  glory  to  all  other  objects,  according  as  tliey 
have  any  relation  to  it.  It  adorns  the  universe ;  it  gives  a  luster  to 
nature,  and  to  Providence ;  it  is  the  greatest  glory  of  this  lower 
world,  that  its  Creator  was  for  awhile  its  inhabitant.  A  poor  land- 
lord thinks  it  a  lasting  honor  to  his  cottage,  that  he  has  once  lodged 
a  prince  or  emperor.  With,  how  much  more  reason  may  our  poor 
cottage,  this  earth,  be  proud  of  it,  that  the  Lord  of  glory  was  its 
tenant  from  His  birth  to  His  death !  yea,  that  He  rejoiced  in  tbe 
habitable  parts  of  it  before  it  had  a  beginning,  even  from  everlast- 
ing ! 

It  is  the  glory  of  the  world  that  He  who  formed  it,  dwelt  on  it ; 
of  the  air,  that  He  breathed  in  it ;  of  the  sun,  that  it  shone  on  Him ; 
of  the  ground,  that  it  bore  Him ;  of  the  sea,  that  He  walked  on  it ; 
of  the  elements,  that  they  nourished  Him ;  of  the  waters,  that  they 
refreshed  Him ;  of  us  men,  that  He  lived  and  died  among  us,  yea, 
that  He  lived  and  died  for  us ;  that  He  assumed  our  flesh  and  blood, 
and  carried  it  to  the  highest  heavens,  where  it  shines  as  the  eternal 
ornament  and  wonder  of  the  creation  of  God.  It  gives  also  a  luster 
to  Providence.  It  is  the  chief  event  that  adorns  the  records  of  time, 
and  enlivens  the  history  of  the  universe.  It  is  the  glory  of  the  va- 
rious great  lines  of  Providence,  that  they  point  at  this  as  their  cen- 
ter ;  that  they  prepared  the  way  for  its  coming ;  that  after  its  com- 
ing they  are  subservient  to  the  ends  of  it,  though  in  a  way  indeed 
to  us  at  present  mysterious  and  unsearchable.  Thus  we  know  that 
they  either  fulfill  the  promises  of  the  crucified  Jesus,  or  His  threat- 
enings;  and  show  either  the  happiness  of  receiving  Him,  or  the 
misery  of  rejecting  Him. 


DISCOURSE    FIFTY.NINTH. 

ROBERT    WALKER. 

This  eminent  divine  of  the  Scottish  Church,  was  born  at  Canongate, 
in  1716,  and  received  a  regular  education  at  the  University  of  Edin- 
burg.  He  was  ordained,  in  1738,  minister  of  Straiton  ;  and  in  1746  was 
transferred  to  the  second  charge  of  South  Lcith.  In  1754  he  was  called 
to  be  one  of  the  ministers  of  Edinburg  in  the  High  Church,  which  posi- 
tion he  filled  with  distinguished  ability.  In  the  month  of  February, 
1782,  he  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  apoplexy;  and  though  recovering  to 
some  extent,  he  at  length  suddenly  died  in  April,  1783. 

Dr.  Blair,  who  was  the  colleague  of  Walker,  speaks  of  him  in  high 
terms,  representing  him  as  a  man  of  deep  piety,  solid  judgment,  and 
powers  of  the  most  correct  taste,  wliich  gave  elegance,  neatness,  and 
chaste  simpHcity  to  his  discourses.  Walker's  sermons  have  received  the 
highest  commendations  from  the  ablest  divines  of  all  countries.  They 
may  perhaj^s  be  regarded  as  among  the  safest  models  for  the  study  of 
young  ministers.  Doctrinal  and  evangelical,  they  are  at  the  same  time 
highly  jDractical,  always  logical,  perspicuous  in  style,  completely  in- 
grained with  happy  Scriptural  quotations,  and  conveyed  with  a  manly, 
forcible  eloquence,  and  a  devout,  earnest  spirit.  Walker  possessed  the 
faultless  beauty  of  Blair,  without  the  elegant  frigidity  of  his  thoughts, 
which,  as  Foster  says,  '■''became  cooled  and  stiffened  to  nmnhness  in 
waiting  so  long  to  he  dressedP  The  sweet  in\dtings  of  the  compassion- 
ate Saviour  have  seldom  been  set  forth  in  a  more  charming,  yet  faithful 
manner,  and  in  a  more  winning  and  affectionate  spirit,  than  m  the  fol- 
lowino;  discourse. 


THE  HEAVY  LADEN  INVITED  TO  CHEIST. 

"  Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labor,  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."— 
Matt.  xi.  28. 

It  was  prophesied  of  our  Lord  long  before  His  manifestation  in 
the  flesh,  that  He  should  "proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives,  and  the 


272  ROBEET    WALKER. 

opening  of  tlie  prison  to  tliem  tliat  are  bound."  And  lo !  here  He 
doth  it  in  the  kindest  and  most  endearing  manner,  offering  rest,  or 
spiritual  relief,  to  every  "  laboring  and  heavy  laden"  sinner.  "  Come 
unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labor,  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest." 

In  discoursing  from  which  words,  I  propose,  in  dependence  upon 
Divine  aid : 

First.  To  open  the  character  of  those  to  whom  the  invitation  is 
addressed ; 

Secondhj.  To  explain  the  invitation  itself,  and  show  what  is  in- 
cluded in  coming  to  Christ.     After  which  I  shall  endeavor,  in  the 

Third  place.  To  illustrate  the  gracious  condescending  promise 
with  which  our  Lord  enforces  the  call :  "  I  will  give  you  rest." 

I  begin  with  the  character  of  those  to  whom  the  invitation  is 
addressed.  They  are  such,  you  see,  as  "  labor,  and  are  heavy  laden  ;" 
that  is,  who  feel  the  unsupportable  load  of  guilt,  and  the  galling 
fetters  of  corrupt  affections,  and  earnestly  long  to  be  delivered  from 
both  ;  for  these  were  the  persons  whom  our  Saviour  always  regarded 
as  the  peculiar  objects  of  His  attention  and  care.  By  our  fatal  apos- 
tasy, we  forfeited  at  once  our  innocence  and  our  happiness ;  we  be- 
came doubly  miserable,  liable  to  the  justice  of  Cod,  and  slaves  to 
Satan  and  our  own  corruptions.  But  few,  comparatively  speaking, 
are  sensible  of  this  misery !  The  bulk  of  mankind  are  so  hot  in 
the  pursuit  of  perishing  trifles,  that  they  can  find  no  leisure  seriously 
to  examine  their  spiritual  condition.  These,  indeed,  have  a  load 
upon  tbem,  of  weight  more  than  suf&cient  to  sink  them  into  perdi- 
tion ;  but  they  are  not  "  heavy  laden"  in  the  sense  of  my  text. 
Our  Saviour  plainly  speaks  to  those  who  feel  their  burden,  and  are 
groaning  under  it;  otherwise  the  promise  of  rest,  or  deliverance, 
could  be  no  inducement  to  bring  them  to  Him.  And  the  call  is 
particularly  addressed  to  such,  for  two  obvious  reasons : 

First.  I3ecause  our  Lord  knew  well  that  none  else  would  com- 
ply with  it.  "  The  full  soul  loathes  the  honey-comb."  Such  is  the 
pride  of  our  hearts,  that  each  of  us  would  wish  to  be  a  saviour  to 
himself,  and  to  purchase  heaven  by  his  own  personal  merit.  This 
■\vas  the  "  rock  of  offense"  upon  which  the  Jews  stumbled  and  fell : 
they  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  being  indebted  to  the  righteous- 
ness of  another  for  pardon  and  acceptance  with  God ;  for  so  the 
apostle  testifies  concerning  them.  "  Being  ignorant  of  God's  right- 
eousness, they  went  about  to  establish  their  own  righteousness,  and 
did  not  submit  themselves  unto  the  righteousness  of  God."  And 
still  this  method  of  justifying  sinners  is  opposed  and  rejected  by 


THE    HEAVY    LADEN    INVITED    TO    CHRIST.  273 

every  "natural  man."  He  feels  not  his  disease,  and  therefore  treats 
the  physician  with  contemjpt  and  scorn:  whereas  the  soul  that  is 
enlightened  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  awakened  to  a  sense  of  its 
guilt  and  pollution,  lies  prostrate  before  the  mercy-seat,  crying  out 
with  Paul  when  struck  to  the  ground,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  Thou  have 
me  to  do?"  It  was  therefore  with  peculiar  significancy,  that  our 
Lord  introduced  His  sermon  upon  the  Mount  by  adjudging  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  to  the  "  poor  in  spirit,"  placing  humility  in  the  front 
of  all  the  other  graces,  as  being  the  entrance  into  religious  temper, 
the  beginning  of  the  Divine  hfe,  the  first  step  of  the  soul  in  its  re- 
turn to  God. 

Secondly.  The  "  laboring  and  heavy  laden"  are  particularly  dis- 
tinguished, because  otherwise,  j^ersons  in  that  situation,  hopeless  of 
relief,  might  be  in  danger  of  excluding  themselves  from  the  offer  of 
merey.  If  there  was  only  a  general  call  to  come  to  the  Saviour,  the 
humble  convinced  soul,  pressed  down  with  a  sense  of  its  guilt  and 
depravity,  might  be  ready  to  object,  Surely  it  can  not  be  such  a 
worthless  and  wicked  creature  as  I  am,  to  whom  the  Lord  directs 
His  invitation.  And  therefore,  He  "  who  will  not  break  the  bruised 
reed,  nor  quench  the  smoking  flax,"  doth  kindly  encourage  them, 
by  this  special  address,  that  the  very  thing  which  to  themselves 
would  appear  the  greatest  obstacle  in  the  way  of  mercy,  might  be- 
come the  means  of  assuring  them  that  they  are  the  very  persons  for 
whom  mercy  is  prepared. 

Let  this,  then,  encourage  every  weary,  self-condemning  sinner. 
The  greater  your  guilt  appears  in  your  own  eye,  the  greater  ground 
you  have  to  expect  relief  if  you  apply  for  it.  Mercy  looks  for  noth- 
ing but  an  affecting  sense  of  the  need  of  mercy.  Say  not.  If  my  bur- 
den were  of  a  lesser  weight,  I  might  hope  to  be  delivered  from  it;  for 
no  burden  is  too  heavy  for  Omnipotence :  He  who  is  "  mighty  to 
save,"  can  easily  remove  the  most  oppressive  load ;  "  His  blood 
cleanseth  from  all  sin,"  and  "by  Him  all  who  believe  are  justified 
from  all  things."  This  great  Physician  did  not  come  to  heal  some 
slight  distempers,  but  to  cure  those  inveterate  plagues,  which  none 
besides  Himself  was  able  to  cure.  Whatever  your  disease  be,  it 
shall  neither  reproach  His  skill  nor  His  power,  and  all  that  He  re 
quires  on  3'our  part  is  a  submissive  temper  to  use  the  means  He  pre- 
scribes, with  a  firm  rehance  upon  their  virtue  and  efficacy.  If  you 
are  truly  convinced  that  your  guilt  is  so  great,  and  your  corruptions 
so  strong  that  none  in  heaven  or  on  earth  can  save  3'ou  from  them 
but  Christ  alone — if  you  are  groaning  under  the  burden  of  sin,  and 
can  find  no  rest  till  pardoning  mercy  and  sanctifying  grace  brings 

18 


274  ROBERT    WALKER. 

you  relief,  then  are  you  in  the  very  posture  wliich  my  text  describes, 
and  I  may  warrantably  say  unto  3'ou  what  Martha  said  to  Mary, 
"Arise,  quickly,  the  Master  is  come,  and  calleth  for  thee."  And  this 
is  His  call,  "  Come  unto  Me."     Which  is  the 

Second  thing  I  proposed  to  explain.  Now,  for  understanding 
this,  it  will  be  necessary  to  remind  you  of  the  different  characters 
which  our  Lord  sustains ;  or,  in  other  words,  the  important  offices 
which  He  executes  as  our  Eedeemer.  These,  you  know,  are  three, 
to  wit,  the  offices  of  a  Prophet,  of  a  Priest,  and  of  a  King ;  in  each 
of  which  the  Lord  Jesus  must  be  distinctly  regarded  by  every  soul 
that  comes  to  Him.  Accordingly,  you  may  observe,  that  in  this 
gracious  invitation  He  exhibits  Himself  to  our  view,  in  all  these  char- 
acters ;  for  to  the  condescending  offer  of  removing  our  guilt,  He  im- 
mediately annexes  the  command,  "  Take  My  yoke  upon  you,  and 
learn  of  Me." 

Such  is  our  misery  by  the  fall,  that  we  are  not  only  become  the 
objects  of  God's  righteous  displeasure,  and  liable  to  that  awful  pun- 
ishment which  was  the  penalty  of  the  first  covenant,  but  our  nature 
is  wholly  diseased  and  corrupted ;  so  that  "  in  us,  in  our  flesh,  dwell- 
eth  no  good  thing."  Oar  understanding  is  darkened,  filled  with 
jDrejudices  against  the  truth,  and  incapable  of  discerning  spiritual 
objects :  "  For  the  natural  man  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit 
of  God,  they  are  foolishness  to  Him ;  neither  can  he  know  them,  be- 
cause they  are  spiritually  discerned."  Our  will  is  stubborn  and  rebel- 
lious, like  "  an  iron  sinew,"  which  no  force  can  bend ;  so  inflexible 
in  its  opposition  to  the  Divine  law  that  it  is  called  in  Scripture 
"  enmity  against  God ;"  and  all  our  affections  are  wild  and  ungovern- 
able, deaf  to  the  voice  of  reason  and  conscience,  in  perpetual  discord 
among  themselves,  and  wholly  alienated  from  God,  in  whom  alone 
they  should  unite  and  center.  Such  a  Saviour,  therefore,  was  neces- 
sary for  our  relief,  as  could  effectually  remedy  all  those  evils,  and  not 
only  redeem  us  from  wrath,  but  likewise  prepare  us  for  happiness, 
bv  restoring  our  nature  to  that  original  perfection  from  which  it  had 
fallen. 

For  this  end,  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  He  might  be  in  all 
respects  furnished  for  His  great  undertaking,  was  solemnly  invested 
bv  His  heavenly  Father  with  each  of  the  important  offices  I  have 
named;  that  our  understanding  being  enlightened  by  His  Divine 
teaching,  and  our  will  subdued  by  His  regal  power,  we  might  be 
capable  of  enjoying  the  fruits  of  that  pardon,  which,  , as  our  great 
High  Priest,  He  hath  purchased  with  His  blood.  Now  in  all  these 
characters  the  Scriptures  propose  Him  to  our  faith,  and  we  do  not 


THE    HEAYY   LADEN    INVITED    TO    CHRIST.  £75 

comply  with  the  invitation  in  my  text,  "unless  we  come  to  Him  for 
the  proper  work  of  each  of&ce,  and  embrace  Him  in  the  full  extent 
of  His  commission,  that  "  of  Grod  He  may  be  made  unto  ns  wisdom, 
and  righteousness,  and  sanctification,  and  redemption." 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  the  soul,  in  its  first  approach  to  Christ, 
doth  principally  regard  Him  as  a  priest  or  a  sacrifice ;  and  therefore 
fliith,  as  it  is  employed  for  justification,  or  pardon,  is  emphatically 
styled  "  Faith  in  His  blood."  To  this  God  looks  when  He  justifies 
the  sinner ;  He  views  him  as  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  atonement, 
and  therefore  to  the  same  blood  the  sinner  must  necessarily  look 
upon  his  first  application  to  Christ.  "When  the  criminal  under  the 
law  fled  to  the  horns  of  the  altar,  he  considered  the  temple  rather  as 
a  place  of  protection  than  of  worship.  The  authority  of  a  teacher, 
and  the  majesty  of  a  king,  are  objects  of  terror  to  a  self- condemning 
sinner,  and  by  no  means  suit  his  present  necessity.  Christ,  as  suffer- 
ing, and  "  bearing  our  sins  in  His  own  body  on  the  tree,"  is  the 
only  object  that  can  yield  him  relief  and  comfort;  for  where  shall  he 
find  the  rest  of  his  soul  but  where  God  found  the  satisfaction  of  His 
justice  ? 

Nevertheless,  though  Christ  upon  the  cross  be  the  first  and  most 
immediate  object  of  faith,  yet  the  believer  doth  not  stop  there ;  but, 
having  discovered  a  sufiicient  atonement  for  his  guilt,  he  proceeds  to 
contemplate  the  other  characters  of  his  Redeemer,  and  heartily 
approves  of  them  all  as  perfectly  adapted  to  all  his  necessities.  He 
hearkens  to  His  instruction,  and  cheerfully  submits  to  His  yoke,  and 
covets  nothing  so  much  as  to  be  taught  and  governed  by  Him.  The 
ingenuity  of  faith  speaketh  after  this  manner  :  Seeing  Christ  is  my 
Priest  to  expiate  my  guilt,  it  is  but  just  and  reasonable  that  He 
should  be  my  Prophet  to  teach  me,  and  my  King  to  rule  over  me ; 
that  as  I  live  by  His  merits,  I  should  also  walk  by  His  law. 

0  blessed  Jesus !  saith  the  soul  that  comes  to  Him,  Thou  true 
and  living  way  to  the  Father  !  I  adore  Thy  condescending  grace  in 
becoming  a  sacrifice  and  sin-offering  for  me :  and  now.  encouraged 
by  Thy  kind  invitation,  I  flee  to  Thee  as  my  only  city  of  refuge  ;  I 
come  to  Thee  "  wretched,  and  miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind,  and 
naked" — I  have  no  price  to  offer  Thee,  no  goodness  at  all  to  recom- 
mend me  to  Thy  favor:  "  laboring,  and  heavy  laden,"  I  cast  myself 
at  Thy  feet,  and  look  to  Thy  free  mercy  alone  for  the  removal  of 
this  burden,  which,  without  Thy  interposition,  must  sink  me  down 
to  the  lowest  hell.  Abhorring  myself  in  every  view  I  can  take,  I 
embrace  Thee  for  my  righteousness;  sprinkled  with  Thy  atoning 
blood,  I  shall  not  fear  the  destroying  angel — justice  hath  already 


276  ROBERT    WALKER. 

bad  its  triumpli  on  Thy  cross,  and  therefore  I  take  Thy  cross  for  my 
sanctuary.  This  is  my  rest;  and  here  will  I  stay,  for  1  like  it 
well. 

ISTor  is  this  my  only  errand  to  Thee,  0  thou  complete  Saviour ! 
I  brino-  to  Thee  a  dark  benio;hted  mind  to  be  illuminated  with 
saving  knowledge.  "Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life;"  "in 
Thee  are  hid  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom :"  I  therefore  resign  my 
understanding  to  Thy  teaching :  for  "  No  man  knoweth  the  Father 
but  the  Son,  and  those  to  whom  the  Son  shall  reveal  Him." 

I  likewise  choose  Thee  for  my  Lord  and  my  King;  for  "Thou 
art  altogether  lovely,"  and  in  every  character  necessary  to  my  soul. 
Here  are  enemies  whom  none  can  vanquish  but  Thyself;  here  are 
corruptions,  which  nothing  less  than  all-conquering  grace  can  sub- 
due :  I  therefore  implore  Thine  almighty  aid.  Do  thou  possess  Thy 
throne  in  my  heart,  and  cast  out  of  it  whatever  opposeth  or  offend- 
eth  Thee.  It  is  Thine  already  by  purchase ;  O  make  it  Thine  also 
by  conquest !  and  perform  the  whole  work  of  a  Saviour  upon  it. 

After  this  manner  doth  the  believer  address  himself  to  Christ ; 
and  thus  doth  he  answer  the  call  to  come  unto  Him.  From  all 
which  we  may  learn  our  duty  in  this  matter.  Let  every  laboring 
and  heavy  laden  sinner,  who  hears  me  this  day,  speedily  betake  him- 
self to  the  same  happy  course :  plead  his  own  call,  and  humbly 
claim  His  gracious  protection ;  flee  without  delay  to  His  atoning 
blood,  and  cleave  to  Him  as  the  Lord  your  "righteousness  and  your 
strength."  I  shall  afterward  represent  to  you  those  sure  grounds  of 
hope  which  may  encourage  you  to  do  this. 

In  the  mean  time  let  us  consider  the  gracious  promise  with, 
which  our  Lord  enforces  the  invitation,  "  I  will  give  you  I'cst."  This 
was  the 

Third  thing  I  proposed  to  illustrate. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  rest  here  spoken  of,  must  be,  at 
least,  of  equal  extent  with  the  burden,  and  include  a  deliverance 
from  every  cause  of  trouble  to  the  soul.  But  this  subject  is  an  ocean 
without  bottom  or  shore  ;  we  can  not  measure  the  length  or  breadth 
of  it,  neither  can  its  depth  be  fathomed ;  for  "  the  riches  of  Christ  are 
unsearchable  ;"  and  surely  no  tongue  can  express  what  the  mind  it- 
self is  unable  to  comprehend.  Nevertheless  I  shall  attempt  to  say  a 
few  things  which  may  be  of  use  to  help  forward  your  comfort  and 
joy,  till  eternity  shall  unfold  the  whole  to  your  view. 

Doth  the  guilt  of  sin  and  the  curse  of  the  law  lie  heavy  upon  thy 
soul  ?  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of 
the  world."     In  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  there  is  an  infinite  merit  that 


THE    HEAVY   LADEN    INVITED    TO    CHRIST.  277 

can  never  be  exhausted.  He  hatli  satisfied  the  most  extensive  de- 
mands of  justice,  and  purchased  a  full  and  everlasting  indemnity  to 
every  penitent  believing  sinner:  so  that  "now  there  is  no  condem- 
nation to  them  which  are  in  Christ  Jesus."  No  sooner  doth  a  soul 
come  to  Him  in  the  manner  I  described,  than  it  "  passeth  from  death 
to  hfe."  He  spreads  His  righteousness  over  it,  and  under  that  cover- 
ing, presents  it  to  His  heavenly  Father  :  from  that  happy  moment 
it  is  no  longer  under  the  law,  but  under  grace :  "  For  Christ  hath 
redeemed  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  by  His  being  made  a  curse 
for  us."  And  what  a  plentiful  source  of  consolation  is  this  !  Well 
may  the  sinner  "  be  of  good  cheer,"  to  whom  Christ  hath  said,  "  Thy 
sins  are  forgiven  thee." 

Do  you  feel  a  law  in  your  members  warring  against  the  law  of 
your  mind  ?  Are  you  harassed  with  temptations,  and  so  environed 
with  "  a  body  of  death,"  that  you  are  made  to  cry  out,  as  Paul  once 
did,  "  O  wretched  man,  who  shall  deliver  me !"  Look  up  to  that 
Prince  and  Saviour,  whom  God  hath  exalted,  not  only  to  give  re- 
mission of  sins,  but  likewise  to  bestow  repentance  upon  His  people, 
and  grace  to  help  them  in  every  time  of  need.  Christ  hath  obtained 
the  Holy  Spirit,  by  whose  almighty  aid  the  Christian  can  do  all 
things.  He  will  plant  that  immortal  seed  in  your  hearts,  which  shall 
gradually  kill  the  weeds  of  corruption :  so  that,  according  to  His 
faithful  word  of  promise,  though  sin  may  lodge  and  fight  within 
you,  yet  it  shall  not  be  able  to  get  "  dominion  over  you." 

Do  you  fear  that  some  unforeseen  cause  may  provoke  Him  to 
forsake  you,  to  withdraw  His  love  and  the  communications  of  His 
grace?  Know  that  "the  gifts  and  callings  of  God  are  without 
repentance."  Christ  is  the  "  good  Shepherd,  who  carries  the  lambs 
in  His  bosom  ;"  and  therefore  they  can  not  perish,  because  none  is 
strong  enough  to  pluck  them  out  of  His  hand.  The  believer  is  not 
left  to  stand  by  himself ;  He  who  is  the  author  is  likewise  the  finisher 
of  His  people's  faith.  Omnipotence  is  their  guardian  ;  and  they  are 
"  kept,"  not  by  their  own  strength,  but  "  by  the  power  of  God, 
through  faith  unto  salvation." 

These  three  are  surely  the  heaviest  burdens  with  which  the  soul 
of  man  can  be  oppressed  ;  and  you  see  that  the  Lord  Jesus  is  able  to 
remove  them  all.  There  are,  no  doubt,  many  other  causes  of  dis- 
couragement to  which  we  are  liable,  so  long  as  we  sojourn  in  this 
valley  of  tears ;  but  as  none  of  them  are  equal  to  those  I  have 
already  named,  we  may  certainly  conclude  that  He  who  performs 
the  greater  work,  can,  with  infinite  ease,  perform  the  lesser  also. 
And,  indeed,  if  I   might   stay   upon   this  branch  of  the  subject. 


278  EGBERT    WALKER, 

it  would  be  no  difficult  task  to  show  that  in  all  other  respects 
believers  "are  complete  in  Christ,"  and  may  by  faith  derive  from 
Him  whatever  is  necessary  either  for  their  safety  or  comfort  in  this 
world :  "  For  it  hath  pleased  the  Father,  that  in  Him  should  all  full- 
ness dwell,"  as  it  is  written. 

But  if  we  would  behold  the  rest  here  spoken  of  in  its  utmost  ex- 
tent and  highest  perfection,  we  must  look  above  us  to  that  heavenly 
world,  from  which  sin,  and  all  the  painful  effects  of  it,  are  eternally 
excluded.  "There  remaineth  a  rest,"  said  the  apostle,  "for  the 
people  of  God."  Great  and  manifold  are  their  privileges  even  in 
this  world  ;  but  beyond  all  these,  are  still  more  glorious  and  enrich- 
ing blessings  that  await  them  in  the  next,  which  our  "  ears  have  not 
yet  heard,  neither  can  our  hearts  conceive."  When  we  attempt  to 
think  of  that  exalted  happiness,  we  can  do  little  more  than  remove 
from  it  in  our  minds  all  those  afflicting  evils  and  grounds  of  dis- 
couragement which  we  may  presently  feel :  only  we  must  conclude, 
that  whatever  the  particular  ingredients  are,  the  happiness  itself 
must  be,  in  all  respects,  worthy  of  its  glorious  Author,  and  propor- 
tioned to  the  infinite  price  that  was  paid  for  it.  Our  Lord  Himself 
calls  it  a  "  kingdom,"  nay,  a  "  kingdom  prepared  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world  ;"  and  the  Apostle  Peter  hath  recorded  three  of  its 
distinguishing  properties,  where  he  styles  it  an  "  inheritance  incor- 
ruptible, undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not  away." 

Such,  my  brethren,  is  that  rest  which  Christ  will  finally  bestow 
upon  His  people.  They  shall  "  enter  into  the  joy  of  their  Lord." 
All  their  burdens  shall  drop  with  their  natural  bodies  ;  none  of  them 
can  pass  beyond  the  grave.  Then  faith  and  hope  shall  become  sight 
and  enjoyment ;  then  love  grown  perfect  shall  cast  out  fear,  and 
nothing  shall  remain  of  all  their  former  trials,  but  the  grateful  re- 
membrance of  that  friendly  hand  which  supported  them,  and  hath 
at  length  crowned  their  "  light  and  momentary  afflictions,"  with  a 
"  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 

And  now,  in  the  review  of  all  that  has  been  said,  methinks  every 
sinner  who  hears  me  should  be  ready  to  answer  the  call  of  my  text 
in  the  language  of  Peter,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go  but  unto 
Thee  ?  for  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life."  0  that  there  were 
such  hearts  in  us  !  But  perhaps  some  humble  soul  may  say,  Gladly 
would  I  go  to  this  Saviour,  willingly  would  I  throw  myself  at  His 
feet  and  implore  His  protection  ;  but  such,  alas  !  is  my  vileness  and 
unworthiness,  so  long  have  I  slighted  His  offers  and  abused  His 
grace,  that  I  fear  this  call,  kind  as  it  is,  doth  not  extend  to  me  :  my 
case  is  singularly  bad,  and  my  sins  have  been  aggravated  to  such  a 


THE    HEAVY   LADEN    INVITED    TO    CHRIST,  279 

degree  that  my  desponding  heart  hath  already  pronounced  the  sen- 
tence of  condemnation  ;  and  the  doom  appears  so  just,  so  righteous, 
that  I  can  see  no  ground  to  hope  that  ever  it  shall  be  reversed.  For 
removing  this  obstacle,  which  seems  to  lie  in  the  way  of  your  return 
to  Christ,  let  me  beg  your  attention  to  the  following  particulars. 

Consider  the  great  condescension  of  this  Eedeemer.  WhUe  He 
was  upon  the  earth,  He  never  rejected  any  who  sought  relief  from 
Him  :  like  a  sanctuary,  whose  gates  stand  continually  open,  He  gave 
free  undebarred  access  to  all,  insomuch  that  His  enemies,  by  way  of 
reproach,  styled  Him  "  the  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners."  Neither 
did  our  Lord  disown  the  character :  on  the  contrary,  He  gloried  in 
it,  and  proclaimed  it  openly  to  the  world  ;  declaring,  upon  all  proper 
occasions,  that  "  He  was  come  to  seek,  and  to  save  that  which  was 
lost."  For  this  end,  He  assumed  our  nature ;  for  this  end,  He  suf- 
fered and  died ;  and  upon  the  same  benevolent  design.  He  is  now 
gone  up  to  heaven,  "where  He  appears  in  the  presence  of  God  for 
us;" — "that  if  any  man  sin,  He  may  have  an  advocate  with  the 
Father,"  to  solicit  His  pardon,  and  to  plead  His  cause.  And  may 
not  these  discoveries  of  His  merciful  nature  expel  your  fears,  and 
revive  your  hope  ?  Has  He  in  a  manner  laid  aside  the  majesty  of  a 
sovereign,  and  put  on  the  mild  and  amiable  aspect  of  a  tender-heart- 
ed, sympathizing  friend  ?  and  may  not  this  by  itself  encourage  you 
to  draw  near  to  Him,  and  to  claim  the  blessings  of  that  rest  He  hath 
obtained  for  His  people  ? 

But,  lo !  He  hath  prevented  you  even  in  this :  for  all  the  proofs 
of  His  good-will  to  men,  He  superadds  the  most  warm  and  pressing 
invitations,  to  come  to  Him  for  relief  from  all  their  burdens.  "In 
the  last  day,  the  great  day  of  the  feast,  Jesus  stood  and  cried,  If  any 
man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  Me,  and  drink."  "  Behold,"  said  He 
to  the  degenerated  church  of  the  Laodiceans,  "  Behold,  I  stand  at 
the  door,  and  knock :  if  any  man  will  hear  My  voice,  and  open  the 
door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  sup  with  him,  and  he  with  Me." 
And  in  the  concluding  chapter  of  the  Eevelation,  it  is  written,  "  The 
Spirit  and  the  Bride  sky,  Come  :  and  let  him  that  is  a-thirst  come : 
and  luliosoever  wiU,  let  him  come,  and  take  the  water  of  life  freely." 
So  that  you  see  my  text  is  not  a  singular  instance  of  condescension ; 
the  Scriptures  are  replenished  with  invitations  of  the  same  kind ; 
and  they  are  all  expressed  in  the  most  extensive  and  absolute  terms, 
on  purpose,  as  it  were,  to  obviate  every  possible  objection,  and  to 
remove  all  jealousy  from  the  most  desponding  sinners,  who  might 
otherwise  have  suspected  that  the  call  did  not  reach  so  far  as  them. 

But  lest  the  offer  of  a  Saviour,  when  viewed  as  a  privilege, 


280  ROBERT    WALKER. 

miglit  still  appear  in  the  eyes  of  some  a  privilege  too  liigb  for  them 
'to  aspire  to,  therefore  it  hath,  pleased  the  Father  to  interpose  His 
authority,  and  to  make  it  our  duty  to  embrace  the  offer :  as  we  learn 
from  that  remarkable  passage,  "This  is  the  command  of  God,  that 
we  should  believe  on  the  name  of  His  Son  Jesus  Christ."  So  that 
faith  in  Christ  becomes  an  act  of  obedience ;  the  law  of  the  Su- 
preme Governor  is  the  sinner's  warrant  to  come  to  the  Saviour ;  and 
therefore  it  can  be  no  presumption  in  any,  however  guilty  they  have 
been,  to  flee  to  this  city  of  refuge,  seeing  He  who  hath  appointed  it, 
not  only  permits,  but  peremptorily  commands  them  to  re23air  to  it. 

And  to  crown  all,  our  Lord  Himself  hath  declared  in  the  most 
solemn  manner,  that  none  shall  be  rejected  v/ho  come  to  Him  for 
salvation.  These  are  His  words:  "Him  that  cometh  to  Me  I  will 
in  no  wise  cast  out."  I  will  receive  him  with  outstretched  arms ;  I 
will  tenderly  embrace  and  cherish  him,  and  so  unite  him  to  Myself, 
that  the  combined  force  of  earth  and  hell  shall  never  be  able  to  dis- 
solve the  union,  or  to  separate  His  soul  from  My  unchangeable 
love. 

Lift  up  thy  head,  then,  O  "laboring  and  heavy  laden"  sinner! 
Ponder  with  due  attention,  those  grounds  of  encouragement  I  have 
briefly  suggested.  Doth  the  Father  command  you  to  believe  on  His 
Son  ?  Doth  the  Lord  Jesus  invite,  nay,  entreat  you  to  come  to  Him, 
and  at  the  same  time  assure  you  that  "  He  will  in  no  wise  cast  you 
out?"  And  shall  not  this  multiplied  security  remove  all  your 
doubts,  and  bring  you  to  Him  with  an  humble,  but  steadfast,  hope  of 
obtaining  that  rest  which  He  offers  unto  you?  Say  not  henceforth, 
My  burden  is  so  heavy,  and  my  guilt  so  great,  that  I  dare  not  go  to 
Him ;  but  rather  say,  My  burden  is  so  heavy,  that  I  must  go  to  Him ; 
for  no  other  arm  can  remove  it  but  His  own.  He  offers  you  His 
help,  because  you  are  miserable ;  He  invites  you  to  come  to  Him, 
not  because  you  deserve,  but  because  you  need  His  aid.  Arise  then, 
O,  sinners  !  and  obey  His  call :  cast  your  burden  upon  Him  who  is 
mighty  to  save ;  yield  yourselves,  without  reserve,  to  this  faithful 
Kedeemer,  to  be  justified  by  His  blood,  and  sfmctified  by  His  Spirit; 
"take  His  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of  Him ;"  and  then  you  shall 
find  rest  to  your  soul. 

But  what  shall  I  say  to  those  who  have  never  as  yet  felt  the 
burden  of'  sin  ?  who,  amid  the  deepest  poverty  and  wretchedness, 
imagine  themselves  to  be  "rich,  and  increased  with  goods,  and  to 
stand  in  need  of  nothing?"  Alas!  my  friends,  what  can  we  do  for 
such  ?  Shall  I  denounce  the  curses  of  a  broken  Covenant  to  alarm 
■  their  fears?     Shall  I  publish  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  and  by  these 


THE    HEAVY    LADEN    INVITED    TO    CHRIST.  281 

persuade  tliem  to  flee  from  the  wratli  to  come?  Indeed,  considera- 
tions of  this  kind  seem  proper  and  necessary,  to  rouse  them  from 
that  deadly  sleep  into  which  they  are  cast.  And  believe  it,  0,  sin- 
ners !  that  no  representations  of  this  sort,  however  awful  they  might 
appear,  could  exceed,  or  even  equal,  the  dreadful  reality ;  for  who 
knoweth  the  "power  of  God's  anger?" 

But  as  my  text  breathes  nothing  but  love  and  clemency,  I  shall 
rather,  upon  this  occasion,  "beseech  you  by  the  meekness  and  gen- 
tleness of  Christ,"  and  fetch  my  arguments  from  the  endearing  con- 
descensions of  His  mercy  and  grace. 

Know,  then,  O,  sinnei's !  that,  after  all  the  contempt  you  have 
thrown  upon  Him,  He  is  still  willing  to  become  your  Saviour.  Un- 
grateful as  you  have  been,  He  once  more  opens  His  arms,  and  in- 
vites you  to  come  unto  Him.  He  sends  us  forth  this  day,  to  call 
after  you  in  His  name,  and  to  intreat  you  in  His  stead  to  be  recon- 
ciled to  God.  Behold,  in  the  Gospel-offer,  He  lays,  as  it  were.  His 
crucified  body  in  3'our,  way,  to  stop  you  in  your  self-destroying 
course.  And  will  you  still  press  onward,  "  and  trample  under-foot 
the  Son  of  God?"  Behold,  His  blood,  like  a  mighty  river,  flows - 
between  you  and  the  place  of  torment ;  and  will  you  force  your 
passage  to  the  everlasting  burning  through  this  immense  ocean  of 
redeeming  love?  0,  sinners,  think  of  this!  all  who  perish  under 
the  Gospel  must  carry  this  dreadful  aggravation  along  with  them  : 
that  mercy  was  in  their  offer,  and  they  would  not  accept  it ;  nay, 
that  they  insulted  and  abused  the  mercy  that  would  have  saved 
them.  And  "  can  your  hearts  endure,  or  can  your  hands  be  strong, 
in  the  day  that  God  shall  deal  with  you"  for  this  contempt  ?  For 
the  Lord's  sake,  open  your  eyes  in  time ;  look  upon  Him  whom  you 
have  pierced  by  3'Our  sins,  and  mourn.  I  address  you  as  the  angels 
did  Lot,  when  they  brought  him  forth  from  Sodom;  "Escape  for 
thy  life,  look  not  behind  thee,  neither  stay  thou  in  all  the  plain :" 
Flee  to  the  Saviour,  "  lest  thou  be  consumed." 


DISCOURSE    SIXTIETH. 

HUaH    BLAIR,    D.D. 

This  celebrated  divine  was  born  at  Edinburg,  in  1718,  and  educated 
in  the  University  of  that  city.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  in  1741, 
when  he  became  minister  of  Collossie,  in  Fife.  In  1743  he  was  ap- 
pointed minister  of  the  Canongate,  Edinbm-g;  in  1754,  he  was  removed 
to  Lady  Tester's,  and  in  1759,  to  the  High  Church,  where  he  continued 
durmg  the  remainder  of  his  life.  Upon  the  formation  of  a  professor- 
ship of  Rhetoric  and  Belles-letters,  in  that  city.  Dr.  Blair  was  appointed 
the  professor,  and  here  oi'iginated  his  celebrated  "  Lectures  on  Com])©- 
sition,"  first  published  in  1783.  The  first  volmne  of  his  sermons  ap- 
peared in  1777,  and  acquired  a  wide  popularity.  For  publishing  them 
he  was  rewarded  with  a  pension  of  two  hundred  pounds  per  annum. 
Dr.  Blair  died  in  1800. 

The  sermons  of  Blair  are  illustrative  of  a  certain  school  of  pulpit  elo- 
quence, wonderfully  popular  in  his  day,  in  which  beauty  and  literary 
elegance  were  more  cared  for  than  the  earnest  grapple  of  the  truth 
upon  the  mind  and  conscience.  The  remorseless  criticism  of  John  Fos- 
ter, upon  the  sermons  of  this  author,  is  well  known.  Nevertheless, 
though,  as  Foster  says,  they  are  free  from  the  property  of  Pericles' 
eloquence,  "which  left  stings  behind,"  yet  his  sermons  are  by  no  means 
destitute  of  even  high  merit,  as  fm-nishing  sj^ecimens  of  fine  taste,  neat 
and  perspicuous  style,  concise  statement,  and  beautiful  simpHcity.  In 
these  respects  they  are  models  of  their  kind.  It  should  be  added  that 
thoiigh  generally  lacking  in  the  clear  enunciation  of  some  of  the  great 
doctrines  of  revelation,  many  of  his  discourses  are  highly  evangelical. 
This  last  remark  applies  to  the  one  here  given ;  which,  by  common  con- 
sent, is  allowed  to  be  the  best  of  his  discourses.     The  title  is  ours. 


THE   HOUR   AND    THE   EVENT    OF   ALL   TIME. 

"  Jesus  lifted  up  His  eyes  to  heaven,  and  said,  Father !  the  hour  is  come." — John, 
xvii.  1. 

These  were  the  words  of  our  blessed  Lord  on  a  memorable  occa- 
sion.    The  feast  of  the  Passover  drew  nigh,  at  which  He  knew  that 


THE  HOUR  AND  THE  EVENT  OP  ALL  TIME.     283 

He  was  to  suffer.  The  night  was  arrived  wherein  lie  was  to  be  deliv- 
ered into  the  hands  of  His  enemies.  He  had  spent  the  evening  in 
conference  with  His  disciples,  like  a  dying  father  in  the  midst  of  his 
famil}^,  mingling  consolations  with  his  last  instructions.  When  He 
had  ended  His  discourse  to  them,  "  He  lifted  up  His  eyes  to  heaven," 
and  with  the  words  which  I  have  now  read,  began  that  solemn 
prayer  of  intercession  for  the  Church,  which  closed  His  ministry. 
Immediately  after,  He  went  forth  with  His  disciples  into  the  garden 
of  Gethsemane,  and  surrendered  Himself  to  those  who  came  to  appre- 
hend Him. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  our  Lord  at  the  time  of  His  pronounc- 
ing these  words.  He  saw  His  mission  on  the  point  of  being  accom- 
plished. He  had  the  prospect  full  before  Him  of  all  that  He  was 
about  to  suffer — "  Father  !  the  hour  is  come."  What  hour  ?  An 
hour  the  most  critical,  the  most  pregnant  with  great  events,  since 
hours  had  begun  to  be  numbered,  since  time  had  begun  to  run.  It 
was  the  hour  at  which  the  Son  of  God  was  to  terminate  the  labors 
of  His  important  life  by  a  death  still  more  important  and  illustrious ; 
the  hour  of  atoning,  by  His  sufferings,  for  the  guilt  of  mankind ;  the 
hour  of  accomplishing  prophecies,  types,  and  symbols,  which  had 
been  carried  on  through  a  series  of  ages ;  the  hour  of  concluding  the 
old,  and  of  introducing  into  the  world  the  new,  dispensation  of  relig- 
ion; the  hour  of  His  triumphing  over  the  world,  and  death,  and 
hell ;  the  hour  of  His  erecting  that  spiritual  kingdom  which  is  to  last 
forever.  Such  is  the  hour.  Such  are  the  events  which  you  are  to 
commemorate  in  the  sacrament  of  our  Lord's  Supper.  I  shall  attempt 
to  set  them  before  you  as  proper  subjects,  at  this  time,  of  your  devout 
meditation.  To  display  them  in  their  genuine  majesty  is  beyond  the 
ability  of  man. 

I.  This  was  the  hour  in  which  Christ  was  glorified  by  His  suf- 
ferings. The  whole  of  His  life  had  discovered  much  real  greatness 
under  a  mean  appearance.  Through  the  cloud  of  His  humiliation. 
His  native  luster  often  broke  forth ;  but  never  did  it  shine  so  bright 
as  in  this  last,  this  trying  hour.  It  was  indeed  the  hour  of  distress 
and  of  blood.  He  knew  it  to  be  such ;  and  when  He  uttered  the 
words  of  the  text.  He  had  before  His  eyes  the  executioner  and  the 
cross,  the  scourge,  the  nails,  and  the  spear.  But  by  j^rospects  of 
this  nature  His  soul  was  not  to  be  overcome.  It  is  distress  which 
ennobles  every  great  character ;  and  distress  was  to  glorify  the  Son 
of  God.  He  was  now  to  teach  all  mankind  by  His  example,  how  to 
suffer  and  to  die.  He  was  to  stand  forth  before  His  enemies  as  the 
faithful  witness  of  the  truth,  justifying  by  His  behavior  the  charac- 


284  HUaH    BLAIR. 

ter  wliicli  He  assumed,  and  sealing  by  His  blood  the  doctrines  whicli 
He  taught. 

What  magnanimity  in  all  His  words  and  actions  on  this  great 
occasion  !  The  court  of  Herod,  the  judgment-hall  of  Pilate,  the  hill 
of  Calvary,  were  so  many  theaters  prepared  for  His  displaying  all 
the  virtues  of  a  constant  and  patient  mind.  "When  led  forth  to  suf- 
fer, the  first  voice  which  we  hear  from  Him  is  a  generous  lamentation 
over  the  fate  of  His  unfortunate  though  guilty  country ;  and  to  the 
last  moment  of  His  life  we  behold  Him  in  possession  of  the  same 
gentle  and  benevolent  spirit.  No  uj^braiding,  no  complaining  ex- 
pression escaped  from  His  lips  during  the  long  and  painful  approaches 
of  a  cruel  death.  He  betrayed  no  symptom  of  a  weak  or  a  vulgar, 
of  a  discomposed  or  impatient  mind.  With  the  utmost  attention  of 
filial  tenderness  He  committed  His  aged  mother  to  the  care  of  His 
beloved  disciple.  With  all  the  dignity  of  a  sovereign  He  conferred 
pardon  on  a  penitent  fellow-sufferer.  With  a  greatness  of  mind  be- 
yond example,  He  spent  His  last  moments  in  apologies  and  prayers 
for  those  who  were  shedding  His  blood. 

By  wonders  in  heaven,  and  wonders  on  earth  was  this  hour  dis- 
tinguished. All  nature  seemed  to  feel  it ;  and  the  dead  and  the  liv- 
ing bore  Avitness  of  its  importance.  The  vail  of  the  temple  was  rent 
in  twain.  The  earth  shook.  There  was  darkness  over  all  the  land. 
The  graves  were  opened,  and  "  many  who  slept  arose,  and  went  into 
the  holy  city."  Nor  were  these  the  only  prodigies  of  this  awful 
hour.  The  most  hardened  hearts  were  subdued  and  changed.  The 
judge  who,  in  order  to  gratify  the  multitude,  passed  sentence  against 
Him,  publicly  attested  His  innocence.  The  Roman  centurion  who 
presided  at  the  execution,  "  glorified  God/'  and  acknowledged  the 
Sufferer  to  be  more  than  man.  "  After  he  saw  the  things  which  had 
passed,  he  said,  Certainly  this  was  a  righteous  person  :  truly  this  was 
the  Son  of  God."  The  Jewish  malefactor  who  was  crucified  with 
Him  addressed  Him  as  a  King,  and  implored  His  favor.  Even  the 
crowd  of  insensible  spectators,  who  had  come  forth  as  to  a  common 
spectacle,  and  who  began  with  clamors  and  insults,  "  returned  home 
smiting  their  breasts."  Look  back  on  the  heroes,  the  philosophers, 
the  legislators  of  old.  Yiew  them  in  their  last  moments.  Recall 
every  circumstance  which  distinguished  their  departure  from  the 
world.  Where  can  you  find  such  an  assemblage  of  high  virtues,  and 
of  great  events,  as  concurred  at  the  death  of  Christ  ?  Where  so  many 
testimonials  given  to  the  dignity  of  the  dying  person  by  earth  and 
by  heaven  ? 


THE    HOUR    AND    THE    EVENT    OP    ALL    TIME.  285 

II.  This  was  the  hour  in  which  Christ  atoned  for  the  sins  of 
mankind,  and  accomplished  our  eternal  redemption.  It  was  the 
hour  when  that  great  sacrifice  was  offered  up,  the  efiicacy  of  which 
reaches  back  to  the  first  transgression  of  man,  and  extends  forward 
to  the  end  of  time ;  the  hour  when,  from  the  cross,  as  from  an  high 
altar,  the  blood  was  flowing  which  washed  away  the  guilt  of  the 
nations. 

This  awful  dispensation  of  the  Almighty  contains  mysteries 
which  are  beyond  the  discovery  of  man.  It  is  one  of  those  things 
into  which  "  the  angels  desire  to  look."  What  has  been  revealed  to 
us  is,  that  the  death  of  Christ  was  the  interposition  of  Heaven  for 
preventing  the  ruin  of  human  kind.  We  know  that  under  the  gov- 
ernment of  God,  misery  is  the  natural  consequence  of  guilt.  After 
rational  creatures  had,  by  their  criminal  conduct,  introduced  disorder 
into  the  Divine  kingdom,  there  was  no  ground  to  believe  that  by 
their  penitence  and  prayers  alone  they  could  prevent  the  destruction 
which  threatened  them.  The  prevalence  of  propitiatory  sacrifices 
throughout  the  earth,  proclaims  it  to  be  the  general  sense  of  mankind, 
that  mere  repentance  was  not  of  sufficient  avail  to  expiate  sin  or  to 
stop  its  penal  effects.  By  the  constant  allusions  which  are  carried 
on  in  the  New  Testament  to  the  sacrifices  under  the  law,  as  pre-sig- 
nifying  a  great  atonement  made  by  Christ,  and  by  the  strong  expres- 
sions which  are  used  in  describing  the  effects  of  His  death,  the  sacred 
writers  show,  as  plainly  as  language  allows,  that  there  was  an  efficacy 
in  His  sufferings  far  beyond  that  of  mere  example  and  instruction. 
The  nature  and  extent  of  that  efficacy  we  are  unable  as  yet,  fully  to 
trace.  Part  we  are  capable  of  beholding ;  and  the  wisdom  of  what 
we  behold  we  have  reason  to  adore.  We  discern,  in  this  plan  of 
redemption,  the  evil  of  sin  strongly  exhibited,  and  the  justice  of  the 
Divine  government  awfully  exemplied,  in  Christ  suffering  for  sin- 
ners. But  let  us  not  imagine  that  our  present  discoveries  unfold  the 
whole  influence  of  the  death  of  Christ.  It  is  connected  with  causes 
into  which  we  can  not  penetrate.  It  produces  consequences  too  ex- 
tensive for  us  to  explore.  "  God's  thoughts  are  not  as  our  thoughts." 
In  all  things  we  "  see  only  in  part ;"  and  here,  if  any  where,  we  see 
also  "  as  through  a  glass,  darkly." 

This,  however,  is  fully  manifest,  that  redemption  is  one  of  the 
most  glorious  works  of  the  Almighty.  If  the  hour  of  the  creation 
of  the  world  was  great  and  illustrious ;  that  hour,  when,  from  the 
dark  and  formless  mass,  this  fair  system  of  nature  arose  at  the 
Divine  command ;  when  "  The  morning-stars  sang  together,  and  aU 
the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy;"  no  less  illustrious  is  the  hour  of 


286  HUGH    BLAIR. 

the  restoration  of  tlie  world ;  tlie  hour  when,  from  condemnation 
and  misery,  it  emerged  into  happiness  and  peace.  With  less  exter- 
nal majesty  it  was  attended  ;  but  it  is,  on  that  account,  the  more  won- 
derful, that,  under  an  appearance  so  simjole,  such  great  events  were 
covered. 

III.  In  this  hour  the  long  series  of  prophecies,  visions,  types, 
and  figures  were  accomplished.  This  was  the  center  in  which  they 
all  met :  this  the  point  toward  which  they  had  tended  and  verged, 
throughout  the  course  of  so  many  generations.  You  behold  the  Law 
and  the  Prophets  standing,  if  we  may  speak  so,  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross,  and  doing  homage.  You  behold  Moses  and  Aaron  bearing 
the  ark  of  the  covenant ;  David  and  Elijah  presenting  the  oracle  of 
testimony.  You  behold  all  the  priests  and  sacrifices,  all  the  rites 
and  ordinances,  all  the  types  and  symbols  assembled  together  to  re- 
ceive their  consummation.  Without  the  death  of  Christ,  the  worship 
and  ceremonies  of  the  law  would  have  remained  a  pompous,  but  un- 
meaning, institution.  In  the  hour  when  He  was  crucified,  "  the  book 
with  the  seven  seals"  was  opened.  Every  rite  assumed  its  significancy ; 
every  jDrediction  met  its  event ;  every  symbol  displayed  its  corre- 
spondence. 

The  dark  and  seemingly  ambiguous  method  of  conveying  im- 
portant discoveries  under  figures  and  emblems,  was  not  peculiar 
to  the  sacred  books.  The  spirit  of  God  in  pre-signifying  the 
death  of  Christ,  adopted  that  plan,  according  to  which  the  whole 
knowledge  of  those  early  ages  was  propagated  through  the  world. 
Under  the  vail  of  mysterious  allusion,  all  wisdom  was  then  concealed. 
From  the  sensible  world,  images  were  every  where  borrowed,  to  de- 
scribe things  unseen.  More  was  understood  to  be  meant  than  was 
openly  expressed.  By  enigmatical  rites,  the  priest  communicated 
his  doctrines;  by  parables  and  allegories,  the  philosopher  instructed 
his  disciples  ;  even  the  legislator,  by  figurative  sayings,  commanded 
the  reverence  of  the  people.  Agreeably  to  this  prevailing  mode  of 
instruction,  the  whole  dispensation  of  the  Old  Testament  was  so 
conducted,  as  to  be  the  shadow  and  figure  of  a  spiritual  system. 
Every  remarkable  event,  every  distinguished  personage,  under  the 
law,  is  interpreted  in  the  New  Testament,  as  bearing  reference  to  the 
hour  of  which  we  treat.  If  Isaac  was  laid  upon  the  altar  as  an  inno- 
cent victim  ;  if  David  was  driven  from  his  throne  by  the  wicked,  and 
restored  by  the  hand  of  God  ;  if  the  brazen  serpent  was  hfted  up  to 
heal  the  people ;  if  the  rock  was  smitten  by  Moses,  to  furnish  drink 
in  the  wilderness  ;  all  were  types  of  Christ  and  alluded  to  His  death. 

In  predicting  the  same  event  the  language  of  ancient  prophecy 


THE  HOUR  AND  THE  EVENT  OP  ALL  TIME.    287 

was  magnificent,  but  seemingly  contradictory :  for  it  foretold  a 
Messiah,  wlio  was  to  be  at  once  a  suiferer  and  a  conqueror.  The 
Star  ivas  to  come  out  of  Jacob^  and  the  Branch  to  spring  from  the  stem 
of  Jesse.  The  Angel  of  the  Covenant,  the  desire  of  all  nations,  was  to 
come  suddenly  to  His  temple  ;  and  to  Him  was  to  be  "  tlie  gathering 
of  the  people."  Yet,  at  the  same  time.  He  was  to  be  "  despised  and 
rejected  of  men ;"  he  was  to  be  "  taken  from  prison  and  from 
judgment,"  and  to  be  "led  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter."  Though 
He  was  "  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief,"  yet  "  the 
Gentiles  were  to  come  to  His  light,  and  kings  to  the  brightness  of 
His  rising."  In  the  hour  when  Christ  died,  those  prophetical  riddles 
were  solved:  those  seeming  contradictions  were  reconciled.  The 
obscurity  of  oracles,  and  the  ambiguity  of  types,  vanished.  The 
"sun  of  righteousness"  rose  ;  and,  together  with  the  dawn  of  religion, 
those  shadows  passed  away. 

rV.  This  was  the  hour  of  the  abolition  of  the  law,  and  the  in- 
troduction of  the  Gospel ;  the  hour  of  terminating  the  old  and  of 
beginning  the  new  dispensation  of  religious  knowledge  and  worship 
throughout  the  earth.  Yiewed  in  this  light,  it  forms  the  most 
august  era  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  mankind.  When 
Christ  was  suffering  on  the  cross,  we  are  informed  by  one  of  the 
evangelists,  that  He  said,  "  I  thirst ;"  and  that  they  filled  a  sponge 
with  vinegar,  and  put  it  to  His  mouth.  "  After  He  had  tasted  the 
vinegar,  knowing  that  all  things  were  now  accomplished,  and 
the  Scriptures  fulfilled,  he  said.  It  is  finished ;"  that  is,  this 
offered  draught  of  vinegar  was  the  last  circumstance  predicted 
by  an  ancient  prophet,  that  remained  to  be  fulfilled.  The  vision 
and  the  prophecy  are  now  sealed  :  the  Mosaic  dispensation  is  closed. 
"And  He  bowed  His  head  and  gave  up  the  ghost." 

"  It  is  finished."  "When  He  uttered  these  words  He  changed  the 
state  of  the  universe.  At  that  moment  the  law  ceased,  and  the  Gos- 
pel commenced.  This  was  the  ever-memorable  point  of  time  which 
separated  the  old  and  the  new  worlds  from  each  other.  On  one  side 
of  the  point  of  separation,  you  behold  the  law,  with  its  priests,  its 
sacrifices,  and  its  rites,  retiring  from  sight.  On  the  other  side,  you 
behold  the  Gospel,  with  its  simple  and  venerable  institutions,  coming 
forward  into  view.  Significantly  was  the  vail  of  the  temple  rent  in 
this  hour ;  for  the  glory  then  dejDarted  from  between  the  cherubim. 
The  legal  high  priest  delivered  up  his  Urim  and  Thummim,  his 
breast-plate,  his  robes,  and  his  incense :  and  Christ  stood  forth  as 
the  great  High  Priest  of  all  succeeding  generations.  By  that  one 
sacrifice  which  He    now   offered,  He    abolished  sacrifices  forever. 


288  HUGH    BLAIR. 

Altars  on  wliicli  the  fire  had  blazed  for  ages,  were  now  to  smoke  no 
more.  Victims  were  no  more  to  bleed.  "  Not  with  the  blood  of 
bulls  and  goats,  but  with  His  own  blood  He  now  entered  into  the 
holj  place,  there  to  appear  in  the  presence  of'  God  for  us." 

This  was  the  hour  of  association  and  union  to  all  the  worship- 
ers of  God.  When  Christ  said,  "It  is  finished,"  He  threw  down 
the  wall  of  jDartition  which  had  so  long  divided  the  Gentile  from  the 
Jew.  He  gathered  into  one,  all  the  faithful  out  of  every  kindred 
and  people.  He  proclaimed  the  hour  to  be  come  when  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  true  God  should  be  no  longer  confined  to  one  nation, 
nor  His  worship  to  one  temple ;  but  over  all  the  earth,  the  worship- 
ers of  the  Father  should  "serve  Him  in  spirit  and  in  truth."  From 
that  hour  they  who  dwelt  in  the  "  uttermost  ends  of  the  earth,  stran- 
gers to  the  Covenant  of  promise,"  began  to  be  "brought  nigh."  In 
that  hour  the  light  of  the  Gospel  dawned  from  afar  on  the  British 
Islands. 

During  a  long  course  of  ages.  Providence  seemed  to  be  occu- 
pied in  preparing  the  world  for  this  revolution.  The  whole  Jewish 
econom}'-  was  intended  to  usher  it  in.  The  knowledge  of  God 
was  preserved  unextinguished  in  one  corner  of  the  world,  that 
thence,  in  due  time,  might  issue  forth  the  light  which  was  to  over- 
spread the  earth.  Successive  revelations  gradually  enlarged  the 
views  of  men  beyond  the  narrow  bounds  of  Judea,  to  a  more  ex- 
tensive kingdom  of  God.  Signs  and  miracles  awakened  their 
expectation,  and  directed  their  eyes  toward  this  great  event. 
"Whether  God  descended  on  the  flaming  mountain,  or  spoke  by  the 
Prophet's  voice ;  whether  He  scattered  His  chosen  people  into  cap- 
tivity, or  re- assembled  them  in  their  own  land  ;  He  was  still  carry- 
in  on  a  j^rogressive  plan,  which  was  accomplished  at  the  death  of 
Christ. 

Not  only  in  the  territories  of  Israel,  but  over  all  the  earth,  the 
great  dispensations  of  Providence  respected  the  apj^roach  of  this 
important  hour.  If  empires  rose  or  fell ;  if  war  divided,  or  peace 
united,  the  nations ;  if  learning  civilized  their  manners,  or  philoso- 
phy enlarged  their  views ;  all  was,  by  the  secret  decree  of  Heaven, 
made  to  ripen  the  world  for  that  "fullness  of  time,"  when  Christ  was 
to  publish  the  whole  counsel  of  God.  The  Persian,  the  Macedo- 
nian, the  Rom.an  conqueror,  entered  upon  the  stage  each  at  his  pre- 
dicted period;  and  "though  He  meant  not  so,  neither  did  His  heart 
think  so,"  ministered  to  this  hour.  The  revolutions  of  jiower,  and 
the  succession  of  monarchies,  were  so  arranged  by  Providence,  as  to 
facilitate  the  progress  of  the  Gospel  through  the  habitable  world, 


THE    HOUR    AND    THE    EVENT    OP    ALL    TIME.  289 

after  tlie  day  had  arrived,  "  wlien  the  stone  which  was  cut  out  of  the 
mountain  without  hands,  should  become  a  great  mountain  and  fill 
the  earth."  This  was  the  day  which  "  Abraham  saw  afar  off,  and 
was  glad."  This  was  the  day  which  "  many  prophets,  and  kings, 
and  righteous  men,  desired  to  see,  but  could  not ;"  the  day  for 
which  "  the  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature,"  long  oppressed 
with  ignorance,  and  bewildered  in  superstition,  might  be  justly  said 
to  ivait. 

V.  This  was  the  hour  of  Christ's  triumph  over  all  the  powers  of 
darkness ;  the  hour  in  which  He  overthrew  dominions  and  thrones, 
"led  captivity  captive,  and  gave  gifts  unto  men."  The  contest 
which  the  kingdom  of  darkness  had  long  maintained  against  the 
kingdom  of  light  was  now  brought  to  its  crisis.  The  period  was 
come  when  "  the  seed  of  the  woman  shall  bruise  the  head  of  the 
serpent."  For  many  ages,  the  most  gross  superstition  had  filled  the 
earth.  "  The  glory  of  the  incorruptible  God"  was  every  where,  ex- 
cept in  the  land  of  Judea,  "  changed  into  images  made  like  to  cor- 
ruptible man,  and  to  birds,  and  beasts,  and  creeping  things."  The 
world,  which  the  Almighty  created  for  Himself,  seemed  to  have  be- 
come a  temple  of  idols.  Even  to  vices  and  passions  altars  were 
raised  ;  and  what  was  entitled  Eeligion,  was  in  effect  a  discijoline  of 
impurity.  In  the  midst  of  this  universal  darkness,  Satan  had  erected 
his  throne  and  the  learned  and  the  polished,  as  well  as  the  savage 
nations,  bowed  down  before  him.  But  at  the  hour  when  Christ  ap- 
peared on  the  cross,  the  signal  of  his  defeat  was  given.  His  king- 
dom suddenly  departed  from  him:  the  reign  of  idolatry  passed 
away:  He  was  "beheld  to  fall  like  lightning  from  heaven."  In  that: 
hour  the  foundation  of  every  Pagan  temple  shook.  The  statue  of 
every  false  god  tottered  on  its  base.  The  priest  fled  from  his  falling 
shrine ;  and  the  heathen  oracles  became  dumb  forever. 

As  on  the  cross,  Christ  triumphed  over  Satan,  so  He  overcame 
his  auxiliary,  the  world.  Long  had  it  assailed  Him  with  its  tempt- 
ations and  discouragements ;  in  this  hour  of  severe  trial,  He  sur- 
mounted them  all.  Formerly  He  had  despised  the  pleasures  of  the 
world.  He  now  baffled  its  terrors.  Hence  He  is  justly  said  to  have 
"crucified  the  world."  By  His  sufferings  He  ennobled  distress; 
and  He  darkened  the  luster  of  the  pomp  and  vanities  of  life.  He 
discovered  to  His  followers  the  path  which  leads,  through  affliction, 
to  glory  and  to  victory  ;  and  He  imparted  to  them  the  same  spirit 
which  enabled  Him  to  overcome.  "  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this- 
world.  In  this  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation,  but  be  of  good, 
cheer,  I  have  overcome  the  world." 

19 


290  HUGH    BLAIR. 

Deatli  also,  tlie  last  foe  of  man,  was  tlie  victim  of  this  hour. 
The  formidable  appearance  of  the  specter  remained ;  but  his  dart 
was  taken  away.  For,  in  the  hour  when  Christ  expiated  guilt.  He 
disarmed  death,  by  securing  the  resurrection  of  the  just.  When  He 
said  to  His  penitent  fellow-sufferer,  "  To-day  thou  shalt  be  with  Me 
in  paradise,"  He  announced  to  all  His  followers  the  certainty  of  heav- 
enly bliss.  He  declared  the  cherubim  to  be  dismissed,  and  the 
flaming  sword  to  be  sheathed,  which  had  been  appointed  at  the  fall, 
"  to  keep  from  man  the  way  of  the  tree  of  life."  Faint,  before  this 
period,  had  been  the  hope,  indisstinct  the  prospect,  which  even  good 
men  enjoyed  of  the  heavenly  kingdom.  "  Life  and  immortality 
were  now  brought  to  light."  From  the  hill  of  Calvary  the  first 
clear  and  certain  view  was '  given  to  the  world  of  the  everlasting 
mansions.  Since  that  hour,  they  have  been  the  perpetual  consola- 
tion of  believers  in  Christ.  Under  trouble,  they  soothe  their  minds ; 
amid  temptation,  they  support  their  virtue  ;  and  in  their  djaug  mo- 
ments enable  them  to  say,  "  0,  death !  where  is  thy  sting  ?  0,  grave ! 
where  is  thy  victory?" 

VI.  This  was  the  hour  when  our  Lord  erected  that  s|)iritual 
kingdom  which  is  never  to  end.  How  vain  are  the  counsels  and 
designs  of  men. !  How  shallow  is  the  policy  of  the  wicked !  How 
short  their  triumphing !  The  enemies  of  Christ  imagined  that  in 
this  hour  they  had  successfully  accomplished  their  plan  for  His  de- 
struction. They  believed  that  they  had  entirely  scattered  the  small 
party  of  His  followers,  and  had  extinguished  His  name  and  His 
honor  forever.  In  derision  they  addressed  Him  as  a  king.  They 
clothed  Him  with  purple  robes ;  they  crowned  Him  with  a  crown 
of  thorns ;  they  put  a  reed  into  His  hand ;  and,  with  insulting  mock- 
ery, bowed  the  knee  before  Him.  Blind  and  impious  men !  How 
little  did  they  know  that  the  Almighty  was,  at  that  moment  "  setting 
Him  as  a  king  on  the  hill  of  Sion ;  giving  Him  the  heathen  for  His 
inheritance,  and  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  for  His  possession !" 
How  little  did  they  know  that  their  badges  of  mock  royalty  were  at 
that  moment  converted  into  the  signals  of  absolute  dominion,  and 
the  instruments  of  irresistible  power !  The  reed  which  they  put 
into  His  hands  became  "  a  rod  of  iron,"  with  which  He  was  to  "  break 
in' pieces  His  enemies ;"  a  scepter  with  which  He  was  to  rule  the  uni- 
verse in  righteousness.  The  cross,  which  they  thought  was  to  stig- 
matize Him  with  infamy,  became  the  ensign  of  His  renown.  In- 
stead of  being  the  reproach  of  His  followers,  it  was  to  be  their  boast 
and  their  glory.  The  cross  was  to  shine  on  palaces  and  churches, 
throughout  the  earth.     It  was  to  be  assumed  as  the  distinction  of 


THE  HOUR  AND  THE  EVENT  OF  ALL  TIME.    291 

the  most  powerful  monarclis,  and  to  wave  in  tlie  banner  of  victori- 
ous armies  when  the  memory  of  Herod  and  Pilate  should  be 
accursed ;  when  Jerusalem  should  be  reduced  to  ashes,  and  the  Jews 
be  vagabonds  over  all  the  world. 

These  were  the  triumphs  which  commenced  at  this  hour.  Our 
Lord  saw  them  already  in  their  birth ;  "He  saw  of  the  travail  of 
His  soul,  and  was  satisfied."  He  beheld  the  word  of  God  going 
forth,  conquering,  and  to  conquer;  subduing,  to  the  obedience  of 
His  laws,  the  subduers  of  the  world ;  carrying  light  into  the  regions 
of  darkness,  and  mildness  into  the  habitations  of  cruelty.  He  be- 
held the  Gentiles  waiting  below  the  cross,  to  receive  the  Gospel. 
He  beheld  Ethiopia  and  the  Isles  stretching  out  their  hands  to  God  ; 
the  desert  beginning  to  rejoice  and  to  blossom  as  the  rose ;  and  the 
knowledge  of  the  Lord  filling  the  earth,  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea. 
Well  pleased,  He  said,  "It  is  finished."  As  a  conqueror.  He  re- 
tired from  the  field,  reviewing  His  triumphs :  "  He  bowed  His  head 
and  gave  up  the  ghost."  From  that  hour,  Christ  was  no  longer  a 
mortal  man,  but  "  Head  over  all  things  to  the  Church ;"  the  glorious 
King  of  men  and  angels,  of  whose  dominion  there  shall  be  no  end. 
His  triumphs  shall  perpetually  increase.  "  His  name  shall  endure 
forever ;  it  shall  last  as  long  as  the  sun ;  men  shall  be  blest  in  Him, 
and  all  nations  shall  call  Him  blessed." 

Such  were  the  transactions,  such  the  effects,  of  this  ever-memo- 
rable hour.  With  all  those  great  events  was  the  mind  of  our  Lord 
filled,  when  He  lifted  up  His  eyes  to  heaven,  and  said,  "Father!  the 
hour  is  come." 

From  this  view  which  we  have  taken  of  this  subject,  permit  me 
to  suggest,  what  ground  it  affords  to  confide  in  the  mercy  of  God  for 
the  pardon  of  sin ;  to  trust  to  His  faithfulness,  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  all  His  promises ;  and  to  approach  to  Him,  with  gratitude 
and  devotion,  in  acts  of  worship. 

In  the  first  place,  the  death  of  Christ  affords  us  ground  to  con- 
fide in  the  Divine  mercy  for  the  pardon  of  sin.  All  the  steps  of 
that  high  dispensation  of  Providence,  which  we  have  considered, 
lead  directly  to  this  conclusion,  "  He  that  spared  not  His  own  Son, 
but  delivered  Him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  He  not  with  Him  also 
freely  give  us  all  things  ?"  This  is  the  final  result  of  the  discoveries 
of  the  Gospel.  On  this  rests  the  great  system  of  consolation,  which 
it  hath  reared  up  for  men.  We  are  not  left  to  dubious  and  intri- 
cate reasonings,  concerning  the  conduct  which  God  may  be  expected 
to  hold  toward  His  offending  creatures :  but  we  are  led  to  the  view 
of  important  and  illustrious  facts,  which  strike  the  mind  with  evi- 


292  HUGH    BLAIR. 

dence  irresistible.  For  is  it  possible  to  believe,  that  sucb  great  oper- 
ations, as  I  have  endeavored  to  describe,  were  carried  on  by  the 
Almighty  in  vain  ?  Did  He  excite  in  the  hearts  of  His  creatures 
such  encouraging  hopes,  without  any  intention  to  fulfill  them  ?  Af- 
ter so  long  a  preparation  of  goodness,  could  He  mean  to  deny  for- 
giveness to  the  penitent  and  the  humble  ?  When  they  come  by  the 
sense  of  guilt,  man  looks  up  with  an  astonished  eye  to  the  justice 
of  his  Creator,  let  him  recollect  that  hour  of  which  the  text  speaks, 
and  be  comforted.  The  signals  of  Divine  mercy,  erected  in  his 
view,  are  too  conspicuous  to  be  either  distrusted  or  mistaken. 

In  the  next  place,  the  discoveries  of  this  hour  afford  the  highest 
reason  to  trust  in  the  Divine  faithfulness  for  the  accomplishment  of 
every  promise  which  remains  yet  unfulfilled.  For  this  was  the  hour 
of  the  completion  of  God's  ancient  covenant. 

It  was  the  "  performance  of  the  mercy  promised  to  the  fathers." 
We  behold  the  consummation  of  a  great  plan,  which,  throughout  a 
course  of  ages,  had  been  uniformly  pursued ;  and  which,  against 
every  human  appearance,  was,  at  the  appointed  moment,  exactly  ful- 
filled. "  No  word  that  is  gone  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  shall 
fail."  No  length  of  time  alters  His  purpose.  No  obstacles  can  retard 
it.  Toward  the  ends  accomplished  in  this  hour,  the  most  repugnant 
instruments  were  made  to  operate.  We  discern  God  bending  to  His 
purpose  the  jarring  passions,  the  opposite  interests,  and  even  the 
vices  of  men  ;  uniting  seeming  contrarieties  in  His  scheme  ;  making 
"  the  wrath  of  man  to  praise  Him ;"  obliging  the  ambition  of  princes, 
the  prejudices  of  the  Jews,  the  malice  of  Satan,  all  to  concur,  either 
in  bringing  forward  this  hour,  or  in  completing  its  destined  effects. 
With  what  entire  confidence  ought  we  to  wait  for  the  fulfillment  of 
all  His  other  promises  in  their  due  time ;  even  when  events  are  most 
embroiled,  and  the  prospect  is  most  discouraging :  "  Although  thou 
sayest,  thou  canst  not  see  Him,  yet  judgment  is  before  Him ;  there- 
fore trust  thou  in  Him."  Be  attentive  only  to  perform  thy  duty ; 
leave  the  event  to  God,  and  be  assured,  that  under  the  direction  of 
His  Providence,  "  all  things  shall  work  together"  for  a  happy  issue. 

Lastly,  the  consideration  of  this  whole  subject  tends  to  excite 
gratitude  and  devotion,  when  we  approach  to  God  in  acts  of  worship. 
The  hour  of  which  I  have  discussed,  presents  Him  to  us  in  the  ami- 
able light  of  the  Deliverer  of  mankind,  the  Eestorer  of  our  forfeited 
hopes.  We  behold  the  greatness  of  the  Almighty,  softened  by  the 
mild  radiance  of  condescension  and  mercy.  We  behold  Him  dimin- 
ishing the  awful  distance  at  which  we  stand  from  His  presence,  by 
appointing  for  us  a  Mediator  and  Intercessor,  through  whom  the 


THE  HOUR  AND  THE  EVENT  OP  ALL  TIME, 


293 


humble  may,  without  dismay,  approacli  to  Him  who  made  them. 
By  such  views  of  the  Divine  nature,  Christian  faith  lays  the  founda- 
tion for  a  worship  which  shall  be  at  once  rational  and  affectionate  ; 
a  worship  in  which  the  light  of  the  understanding  shall  concur  with 
the  devotion  of  the  heart,  and  the  most  profound  reverence  be  united 
with  the  most  cordial  love.  Christian  faith  is  not  a  system  of  specu- 
lative truths.  It  is  not  a  lesson  of  moral  instruction  only.  By  a 
train  of  high  discoveries  which  it  reveals,  by  a  succession  of  interest- 
ing objects  which  it  places  in  our  view,  it  is  calculated  to  elevate  the 
mind,  to  purify  the  affections,  and  by  the  assistance  of  devotion,  to 
confirm  and  encourage  virtue.  Such,  in  particular,  is  the  scope  of 
that  Divine  institution,  the  Sacrament  of  our  Lord's  Supper.  To 
this  happy  purpose  let  it  conduce,  by  concentering  in  one  striking 
point  of  light  all  that  the  Gospel  has  displayed  of  what  is  most  im- 
portant to  man.  Touched  with  just  contrition  for  past  offenses,  and 
filled  with  a  grateful  sense  of  Divine  goodness,  let  us  come  to  the 
altar  of  God,  and,  with  a  humble  faith  in  His  infinite  mercies,  devote 
ourselves  to  His  service  forever. 


DISCOURSE    SIXTY-FIRST. 

JOHN    LOQAN,    F.R.S. 

Logan  was  bom  in  1748,  at  Fulla,  in  tlie  comity  of  Mid-Lothian,  of 
parents  who  belonged  to  the  Burgher  Seceders,  and  was  educated  at  the 
parochial  school  and  the  University  of  Edhiburg.  Having  completed  his 
theological  studies,  he  soon  became  celebrated  for  his  eloquence,  and  was 
called  to  become  one  of  the  ministers  of  South  Leith  Church  and  parish. 
He  was  desirous  of  high  Uterary  success,  and  its  honors  and  emoluments, 
in  which  he  was  somewhat  clisappointed,  and  possessing  a  sensitive  na- 
ture, melancholy  came  over  his  spirits,  dissatisfaction  arose  among  his 
parishioners,  and  he  at  length  resigned  the  ministry,  and  devoted  his  re- 
mauiing  days  to  Uterary  pursuits.  In  the  bloom  of  his  years,  health  de- 
cHned,  and  he  closed  his  life  December  25th,  1788. 

Logan  was  a  man  of  elegant  taste  and  fervid  genius,  and  published  at 
different  times,  poems  of  a  lyric,  dramatic,  and  elegiac  character.  Of  his 
sermons,  some  forty  hi  number,  and  recently  pubUshed  in  this  country, 
Dr.  Wheddon  remarks,  "  If  mastery  in  any  department  is  to  be  learned 
from  the  masters,  to  few  masters  of  pulpit  style  in  our  language,  can  oiu- 
ministry  resort  superior  to  Logan.  In  the  richness  and  range  of  his  lan- 
guage, in  the  graceful  swell  of  his  ever-varying  periods,  in  the  animated 
expansion  of  his  cUmactic  paragraphs,  he  satisfies  the  fancy,  while  in  the 
chasteness  and  manliness  of  his  style,  in  the  purity  of  his  diction,  and  the 
burnish  of  his  textm-e,  he  may  challenge  the  severest  taste,  and  assert 
himself  a  place  among  the  Enghsh  classics."  The  following  is  certainly 
a  production  of  high  order  in  point  of  Uterary  excellence. 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH. 

"0  death,  where  is  thy  sting?     0  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?    Thanks  be  to  God 
who  giveth  us  the  victory,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." — 1  CoR.  xv.  55,  57. 

The  Messiah  is  foretold  in  ancient  prophecy,  as  a  magnificent 
Conqueror.     His  victories  were  celebrated,  and  His  triumphs  were 


THE    CHRISTIAN'S    VICTORY    OYER    DEATH.  295 

sung,  long  before  tlie  time  of  His  appearance  to  Israel.  "  Who  is 
this,"  saith  the  prophet  Isaiah,  pointing  Him  out  to  the  Old  Testa- 
ment Church,  "  Who  is  this  that  cometh  from  Edom  ;  with  dyed 
garments  from  Bozrah  ?  This  that  is  glorious  in  His  apparel,  trav- 
eling in  the  greatness  of  His  strength  ?"  "  I  have  set  my  King  upon 
my  holy  hill  of  Zion.  I  shall  give  Him  the  heathen  for  His  inher- 
itance, and  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  for  His  possession."  As 
a  Conqueror,  He  had  to  destroy  the  works  of  the  great  enemy  of 
mankind ;  and  to  overcome  death,  the  king  of  terrors. 

The  method  of  accomplishing  this  victory,  was  as  surprising  as 
the  love  which  gave  it  birth.  "  Forasmuch  as  the  children  are  par- 
takers of  flesh  and  blood,  He  Himself  likewise  took  part  of  the 
same,  that  through  His  own  death,  He  might  destroy  Him  that  had 
the  power  of  death,  that  is  the  devil,  and  deliver  them,  who,  through 
fear  of  death,  were  all  their  lifetime  subject  to  bondage."  Accord- 
ingly, His  passion  on  the  cross,  which  you  have  this  day  commem- 
orated, was  the  very  victory  which  He  obtained.  The  hour  in 
which  He  suffered,  was  also  the  hour  in  which  He  overcame.  Then 
He  bruised  the  head  of  the  old  serpent,  who  had  seduced  our  first 
parents  to  rebel  against  their  Maker ;  then  He  disarmed  the  king  of 
terrors,  who  had  usurped  dominion  over  the  nations ;  then  triumph- 
ing over  the  legions  of  hell,  and  the  powers  of  darkness,  He  made 
a  show  of  them  openly.  Not  for  Himself,  but  for  us  did  He  con- 
quer. Tlie  Captain  of  our  salvation  fought,  that  we  might  over- 
come. He  obtained  the  victory,  that  we  may  join  in  the  triumphal 
song,  as  we  now  do,  when  we  repeat  these  words  of  the  apostle : 
"  0  death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?     O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?" 

It  is  the  glory  of  the  Christian  religion,  that  it  abounds  with 
consolations  under  all  the  evils  of  life ;  nor  is  its  benign  influence 
confined  to  the  course  of  life,  but  even  extends  to  death  itself  It 
delivers  us  from  the  agony  of  the  last  hour ;  sets  us  free  from  the 
fears  which  then  perplex  the  timid  ;  from  the  horrors  which  haunt 
the  offender,  though  penitent,  and  from  all  the  darkness  which  in- 
volves our  mortal  state.  So  complete  is  the  victory  we  obtain,  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  said  in  Scripture  to  have  abolished  death. 

The  evils  in  death,  from  which  Jesus  Christ  sets  us  free,  are  the 
following :  in  the  first  place,  The  doubts  and  fears  that  are  apt  to 
perplex  the  mind,  from  the  uncertainty  in  which  a  future  state  is 
involved.  Secondly.  The  apprehensions  of  wrath  and  forebodings 
of  punishments,  proceeding  from  the  consciousness  of  sin.  Thirdly. 
The  fears  that  arise  in  the  mind  upon  the  awful  transition  from  this 
world  to  the  next. 


296  JOHN    LOGAN. 

In  the  first  place,  Jesus  Christ  gives  us  victory  over  death,  by 
delivering  us  from  the  doubts  and  fears  which  arose  in  the  minds  of 
those  who  knew  not  the  Gospel,  from,  the  uncertainty  in  which  a 
fiiture  state  was  involved. 

Without  Divine  Eevelation,  men  wandered  in  the  dark  with 
respect  to  an  after  life.  Unassisted  reason  could  give  but  imperfect 
information  on  this  important  article.  Conjectures,  in  place  of  dis- 
coveries, presumptions,  in  place  of  demonstrations,  were  all  that  it 
could  offer  to  the  inquiring  mind.  The  unenlightened  eye  could 
not  clearly  pierce  the  cloud  which  vailed  futurity  from  mortal  view. 
The  light  of  nature  reached  little  further  than  the  limits  of  this 
globe,  and  shed  but  a  feeble  ray  upon  the  region  beyond  the  grave. 
Hence,  those  heathen  nations,  of  whom  the  apostle  speaks,  are  de- 
scribed as  sorroioing  and  having  no  hope.  And  whence  could  reason 
derive  complete  information,  that  there  was  a  state  of  immortality 
beyond  the  grave?  Consult  with  appearances  in  nature,  and  you 
find  but  few  intimations  of  a  future  life.  Destruction  seems  to  be 
one  of  the  great  laws  of  the  system.  The  various  forms  of  life  are 
indeed  preserved ;  but  while  the  species  remains,  the  individual  per- 
ishes. Every  thing  that  you  behold  around  you  bears  the  marks  of 
mortality  and  the  symptoms  of  decay.  He  only  who  is,  and  was, 
and  is  to  come,  is  without  any  variableness  or  shadow  of  turning. 
Every  thing  passes  away.  A  great  and  mighty  river,  for  ages  and 
centuries,  has  been  rolling  on,  and  sweeping  away  all  that  ever 
lived,  to  the  vast  abyss  of  eternity.  On  that  darkness  light  does 
not  rise.  From  that  unknown  country  none  return.  On  that  de- 
vouring deep,  which  has  swallowed  up  every  thing,  no  vestige  ap- 
pears of  the  things  that  were. 

There  are  particular  appearances  also  which  might  naturally 
excite  an  alarm  for  the  future.  The  human  machine  is  so  consti- 
tuted, that  soul  and  body  seem  often  to  decay  together.  To  the  eye 
of  sense,  as  the  beast  dies,  so  dies  the  man.  Death  seems  to  close 
the  scene,  and  the  grave  to  put  a  final  period  to  the  prospects  of 
man.  The  words  of  Job  beautifully  express  the  an:S;iety  of  the 
mind  on  the  subject.  "If  a  man  die,  shall  he  live  again?  There 
is  hope  of  a  tree  if  it  be  cut  down,  that  it  will  sprout  again,  and  that 
the  tender  branch  thereof  will  not  cease.  Though  the  root  thereof 
wax  old  in  the  earth,  and  the  stock  thereof  die  in  the  ground ;  yet, 
through  the  scent  of  water  it  will  bud,  and  bring  forth  boughs  like 
a  plant :  but  man  dieth,  and  is  cut  ofi" ;  man  giveth  up  the  ghost, 
and  where  is  he  ?  As  the  waters  fail  from  the  sea ;  as  the  flood 
decayeth  and  drieth  up ;  so  man  lieth  down,  and  riseth  not ;  till  the 


THE    CHRISTIAN'S    VICTORY    OVER    DEATH.  £97 

heavens  be  no  more,  tliey  sball  not  awake,  nor  be  raised  out  of  tbeir 
sleep."  But  what  a  dreadful  prospect  does  annihilation  present  to 
the  mind !  To  be  an  outcast  from  existence ;  to  be  blotted  out  from 
the  book  of  life ;  to  mingle  with  the  dust,  and  be  scattered  over  the 
earth,  as  if  the  breath  of  life  had  never  animated  our  frame !  Man 
can  not  support  the  thought.  Is  the  light  which  shone  brighter 
than  all  the  stars  of  heaven  set  in  darkness,  to  rise  no  more  ?  Are 
all  the  hopes  of  man  come  to  this,  to  be  taken  into  the  councils  of 
the  Almighty  ;  to  be  admitted  to  behold  part  of  that  plan  of  Provi- 
dence which  governs  the  world,  and  when  his  eyes  are  just  opened 
to  read  the  book,  to  be  shut  forever  ?  If  such  were  to  be  our  state, 
we  would  be  of  all  creatures  the  most  miserable.  The  world  ap- 
pears a  chaos  without  form,  and  void  of  order.  From  the  throne 
of  nature,  God  departs,  and  there  appears  a  cruel  and  capricious 
being,  who  delights  in  death,  and  makes  sport  of  human  misery. 

From  this  state  of  doubts  and  fears,  we  are  delivered  by  the 
Gospel  of  Jesus.  The  message  which  He  brought,  was  life  and  im- 
mortality. From  the  Star  of  Jacob,  light  shone  even  upon  the 
shades  of  death.  As  a  proof  of  immortality,  He  called  back  the  de- 
parted spirit  from  the  world  unknown ;  as  an  earnest  of  the  resur- 
rection to  a  future  life.  He  Himself  arose  from  the  dead.  When  we 
contemplate  the  tomb  of  nature,  we  cry  out,  "  Can  these  dry  bones 
live?"  When  we  contemplate  the  tomb  of  Jesus,  we  say,  "Yes, 
they  can  live !"  As  He  arose,  we  shall  in  like  manner  arise.  In 
the  tomb  of  nature,  you  see  man  return  to  the  dust  from  whence 
he  was  taken ;  in  the  tomb  of  Jesus  you  see  man  restored  to  life 
again.  In  the  tomb  of  nature  you  see  the  shades  of  death  fall  on 
the  weary  traveler,  and  the  darkness  of  the  long  night  close  over 
his  head ;  in  the  tomb  of  Jesus,  you  see  light  arise  upon  the  shades 
of  death,  and  the  morning  dawn  upon  the  long  night  of  the  grave. 
On  the  tomb  of  nature,  it  is  written,  "  Behold  thy  end,  0  man ! 
Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  thou  shalt  return.  Thou,  who  now 
callest  thyself  the  son  of  heaven,  shall  become  one  of  the  clods  of 
the  valley  ;"  on  the  tomb  of  Christ  is  written,  "  Thou  diest,  0  man, 
but  to  live  again.  When  dust  returns  to  dust,  the  spirit  shall  return 
to  God  who  gave  it.  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life ;  he  that 
believeth  in  Me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live."  From  the 
tomb  of  nature,  you  hear  a  voice,  ''  Forever  silent  is  the  land  of  for- 
getfulness !  From  the  slumbers  of  the  grave  shall  we  awake  no 
more !  Like  the  flowers  of  the  field,  shall  we  be  as  though  we  had 
never  been !"  from  the  tomb  of  Jesus,  you  hear,  "  Blessed  are  the 
dead  that  die  in  the  Lord,  thus  saith  the  Spirit,  for  they  rest  from 


298  JOHN    LOGAN. 

their  labors,  and  pass  into  glory.  In  my  Father's  house,  there  are 
many  mansions ;  if  it  were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you.  I  go  to 
prepare  a  place  for  you,  and  if  I  go  away,  I  will  come  again,  and 
take  you  unto  Myself,  that  where  I  am,  there  ye  may  be  also." 

"Will  not  this  assurance  of  a  happy  immortality  and  a  blessed 
resurrection,  in  a  great  measure  remove  the  terror  and  the  sting  of 
death  ?  May  we  not  walk  without  dismay  through  the  dark  valley, 
when  we  are  conducted  by  a  beam  from  heaven  ?  May  we  not  en- 
dure the  tossings  of  one  stormy  night,  when  it  carries  us  to  the  shore 
that  we  long  for  ?  What  cause  have  we  to  dread  the  messenger 
who  brings  us  to  our  Father's  house  ?  Should  not  our  fears  about 
futurity  abate,  when  we  hear  God  addressing  us  with  respect 
to  death,  as  He  did  the  patriarch  of  old,  upon  going  to  Egypt, 
"Fear  not  to  go  down  to  the  grave  ;  I  will  go  down  with  thee,  and 
will  bring  thee  up  again?" 

Secondly^  Our  victory  over  death  consists  in  our  being  delivered 
from  the  apprehensions  of  wrath  and  forebodings  of  punishment, 
which  arise  in  the  mind  from  the  consciousness  of  sin. 

That  there  is  a  God  who  governs  the  world,  the  patron  of 
righteousness  and  the  avenger  of  sin,  is  so  manifest  from  the  light 
of  nature,  that  the  belief  of  it  has  obtained  among  all  nations.  That 
it  shall  be  well  with  the  righteous,  and  ill  with  the  wicked ;  that  God 
will  reward  those  who  will  diligently  seek  Him,  and  punish  those 
who  transgress  His  laws,  is  the  principle  upon  which  all  religion  is 
founded.  But  whether  m^rcy  be  an  attribute  in  the  Divine  nature 
to  such  an  extent  that  God  may  be  rendered  propitious  to  those  who 
rebel  against  His  authority  and  disobey  His  commandments,  is  an 
inquiry  to  which  no  satisfactory  answer  can  be  made.  Many  of  the 
Divine  attributes  are  conspicuous  from  the  works  of  creation ;  the 
power,  the  wisdom,  and  the  goodness  of  God,  appear  in  creating  the 
world ;  in  superintending  that  world  which  He  has  made ;  in  dif- 
fusing life  wide  over  the  system  of  things,  and  providing  the  means 
of  happiness  to  all  His  creatures.  But  from  no  appearances  in  nature 
does  it  clearly  follow,  that  the  exercise  of  mercy  to  offenders  is  part 
of  the  plan  by  which  the  universe  is  governed.  For  any  thing  that 
we  know  from  the  light  of  nature,  repentance  alone  may  not  be  suffi- 
cient to  procure  the  remission  of  sins  ;  the  tears  of  contrition  may  be 
unavailable  to  wash  away  the  stains  of  a  guilty  life,  and  the  Divine 
favor  may  be  implored  in  vain  by  those  who  have  become  obnoxious 
to  the  Divine  displeasure.  If  in  the  calm  and  serene  hour  of 
inquiry,  man  could  find  no  consolation  in  such  thoughts,  how  would 
he  be  overwhelmed  with  horror,  when  his  mind  was  disordered  with 


THE    CHRISTIAN'S    VICTORY    OVER    DEATH.  299 

a  sense  of  guilt  ?  When  remembrance  brouglit  his  former  life  to 
view,  when  reflection  pierced  him  to  the  heart,  darkness  would 
spread  itself  over  his  mind,  Deity  would  appear  an  object  of  terror, 
and  the  spirit,  wounded  by  remorse,  would  discern  nothing  but  an 
offended  Judge  armed  with  thunders  to  punish  the  guilty.  If,  in  the 
day  of  health  and  prosperity,  these  reflections  were  so  powerful  to 
embitter  life,  they  would  be  a  source  of  agony  and  despair  when 
the  last  hour  approached.  When  life  flows  according  to  our  wishes, 
we  may  endeavor  to  conceal  our  sins,  and  shut  our  ears  against  the 
voice  of  conscience.  But  these  artifices  will  avail  little  at  the  hour 
of  death.  Then  things  appear  in  their  true  colors.  Then  conscience 
tells  the  truth,  and  the  mask  is  taken  off  from  the  man,  when  our 
sins  at  that  hour  pass  before  us  in  review.  Guilty  and  polluted  as 
we  are,  covered  with  confusion,  how  shall  we  appear  at  the  judgment- 
seat  of  God,  and  answer  at  the  bar  of  eternal  justice  ?  How  shall 
dust  and  ashes  stand  in  the  presence  of  that  uncreated  glory,  before 
which  principalities  and  powers  bow  down,  tremble,  and  adore? 
How  shall  guilty  and  self-condemned  creatures  appear  before  Him, 
in  whose  sight  the  heavens  are  not  clean,  and  who  chargeth  His  an- 
gels with  folly?  This  is  the  sting  of  death.  It  is  guilt  that 
sharpens  the  spear  of  the  King  of  Terrors.  But  even  in  this 
view  we  have  victory  over  death,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 
By  His  death  upon  the  Cross,  an  atonement  was  made  for  the  sins 
of  men.  The  wrath  of  God  was  averted  from  the  world.  A  great 
plan  of  reconciliation  is  now  unfolded  in  the  Gospel.  Under  the 
banner  of  the  cross,  pardon  is  proclaimed  to  returning  penitents. 
They  who  accept  the  offers  of  mercy,  and  who  fly  for  refuge  to  the 
hope  set  before  them,  are  taken  into  favor ;  their  sins  are  forgiven, 
and  their  names  are  written  in  the  book  of  life.  Over  them  death 
has  no  power.  The  king  of  terrors  is  transformed  into  an  angel  of 
peace,  to  waft  them  to  their  native  country,  where  they  long  to  be. 

This,  0  Christian  !  the  death  of  thy  Redeemer,  is  thy  strong  con- 
solation ;  thy  effectual  remedy  against  the  fear  of  death.  What  evil 
can  come  nigh  to  him  for  whom  Jesus  died  ?  Does  the  law  which 
thou  hast  broken,  denounce  vengeance  against  thee  ?  Behold  that 
law  fulfilled  in  the  meritorious  life  of  thy  Redeemer.  Does  the  sen- 
tence of  wrath  pronounced  against  the  posterity  of  Adam  sound  in 
thine  ears  ?  Behold  that  sentence  blotted  out,  that  handivriting,  as 
the  apostle  calls  it,  cancelled,  nailed  to  thy  Saviour's  cross,  and  left 
there  as  a  trophy  of  His  victory.  Art  thou  afraid  that  the  cry  of  thy 
offenses  may  rise  to  heaven,  and  reach  the  ears  of  justice?  There 
is  no  place  for  it  there ;  in  room  of  it  ascends  the  voice  of  that 


300  JOHN    LOGAN. 

blood  wMcTi  speaketli  better  things  thau  the  blood  of  Abel.  Does 
the  enemy  of  mankind  accuse  thee  at  the  judgment-seat?  He  is  put 
to  silence  by  thy  Advocate  and  Intercessor  at  the  right  hand  of  thy 
Father.  Does  death  appear  to  thee  in  a  form  of  terror,  and  hold  out 
his  sting  to  alarm  thy  mind  ?  His  terror  is  removed,  and  his  sting 
was  pulled  out  by  that  hand,  which,  on  Mount  Calvary,  was  fixed  to 
the  accursed  tree.  Art  thou  afraid  that  the  arrows  of  Divine  wrath 
which  smite  the  guilty,  may  be  aimed  at  thy  head  ?  Before  they 
can  touch  thee,  they  must  pierce  that  body,  which,  in  the  symbols 
of  Divine  institution,  was  this  day  held  forth  crucified  among  you, 
and  which  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  in  the  heavens,  is  for- 
ever presented  in  behalf  of  the  redeemed.  Well  then  may  ye  join 
in  the  triumphant  song  of  the  apostle,  "  0  death,  where  is  thy  sting? 
0  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?" 

In  the  third  place,  Jesus  Christ  gives  us  victory  over  death,  by 
yielding  us  consolation  and  relief  under  the  fears  that  arise  in  the 
mind  upon  the  awful  transition  from  this  world  to  the  next. 

Who  ever  left  the  precincts  of  mortality  without  casting  a  wish- 
ful look  on  what  he  left  behind,  and  a  trembhng  eye  on  the  scene 
that  is  before  him?  Being  formed  by  our  Creator  for  enjoyments 
even  in  this  life,  we  are  endowed  with  a  sensibility  to  the  objects 
around  us.  We  have  affections,  and  we  delight  to  indulge  them : 
we  have  hearts,  and  we  want  to  bestow  them.  Bad  as  the  world  is, 
we  find  in  it  objects  of  affection  and  attachment.  Even  in  this 
waste  and  howling  wilderness,  there  are  spots  of  verdure  and 
of  beauty,  of  power  to  charm  the  mind  and  make  us  cry  out,  "  It  is 
good  for  us  to  be  here."  When,  after  the  observation  and  expe- 
rience of  years,  we  have  found  out  the  objects  of  the  soul,  and  met 
with  minds  congenial  to  our  own,  what  pangs  must  it  give  to  the 
heart  to  think  of  parting  forever  ?  We  even  contract  an  attachment 
to  inanimate  objects.  The  tree  under  whose  shadow  we  have  often 
sat ;  the  fields  where  we  have  frequently  strayed ;  the  hill,  the  scene 
of  contemplation,  or  the  haunt  of  friendship,  become  objects  of  pas- 
sion to  the  mind,  and  upon  our  leaving  them,  excite  a  temporary 
sorrow  and  regret.  If  these  things  can  affect  us  with  uneasiness, 
how  great  must  be  the  affliction,  when  stretched  on  that  bed  from 
which  we  shall  rise  no  more,  and  looking  about  for  the  last  time  on 
the  sad  circle  of  our  weeping  friends !  How  great  must  be  the 
affliction,  to  dissolve  at  once  all  the  attachments  of  life ;  to  bid  an 
eternal  adieu  to  the  friends  whom  we  long  have  loved,  and  to  part 
forever  with  all  that  is  dear  below  the  sun !  But  let  not  the  Chris- 
tian be  disconsolate.     He  parts  with  the  objects  of  his  affection,  to 


THE    CHRISTIAN'S    VICTORY    OVER    DEATH.  30I 

meet  them  again ;  to  meet  them  in  a  better  world,  where  change 
never  enters,  and  from  whose  bhssful  mansions  sorrow  flies  away.  At 
the  resurrection  of  the  just ;  in  the  great  assembly  of  the  sons  of  God, 
when  all  the  family  of  heaven  are  gathered  together,  not  one  person 
shall  be  missing  that  was  worthy  of  thy  affection  or  esteem.  And  if 
among  imperfect  creatures,  and  in  a  troubled  world,  the  kind,  the 
tender,  and  the  generous  affections  have  such  power  to  charm  the 
heart,  that  even  the  tears  which  they  occasion  delight  us,  what  joy 
unspeakable  and  glorious  will  they  produce,  when  they  exist  in  per- 
fect minds,  and  are  improved  by  the  purity  of  the  heavens ! 

Christianity  also  gives  us  consolation  in  the  transition  from  this 
world  to  the  next.  Every  change  in  life  awakens  anxiety ;  what- 
ever is  unknown,  is  the  object  of  fear ;  no  wonder  then  that  it  is  awful 
and  alarming  to  nature,  to  think  of  that  time  when  the  hour  of  our 
departure  is  at  hand  ;  when  this  animal  frame  shall  be  dissolved,  and 
the  mysterious  bond  between  soul  and  body  shall  be  broken.  Even 
the  visible  effects  of  mortality  are  not  without  terror ;  to  have  no 
more  a  name  among  the  living ;  to  pass  into  the  dominions  of  the 
dead ;  to  have  the  worm  for  a  companion,  and  a  sister,  are  events 
at  which  nature  shudders  and  starts  back.  But  more  awful  still  is 
the  invisible  scene,  when  the  curtain  between  both  worlds  shall  be 
drawn  back,  and  the  soul  naked  and  disembodied  appear  in  the 
presence  of  its  Creator.  Even  under  these  thoughts,  the  comforts 
of  Christianity  may  delight  thy  soal.  Jesus,  thy  Saviour,  has  the 
keys  of  death ;  the  abodes  of  the  dead  are  part  of  His  kingdom. 
He  lay  in  the  grave,  and  hallowed  it  for  the  repose  of  the  just.  Be- 
fore our  Lord  ascended  up  on  high,  He  said  to  His  disciples,  "  I  go 
to  My  Father  and  to  your  Father,  to  My  God  and  to  jour  God ;" 
and  when  the  time  of  your  departure  is  at  hand,  you  go  to  your 
Father  and  His  Father,  to  your  God  and  His  God. 

Enlightened  by  these  discoveries,  trusting  to  the  merits  of  his 
Eedeemer,  and  animated  with  the  hope  which  is  set  before  him, 
the  Christian  will  depart  with  tranquillity  and  joy.  To  him  the  bed 
of  death  will  not  be  a  scene  of  terror,  nor  the  last  hour  an  hour  of 
despair.  There  is  a  majesty  in  the  death  of  the  Christian.  He  par- 
takes of  the  spirit  of  that  world  to  which  he  is  advancing,  and  he 
meets  his  latter  end  with  a  face  that  looks  to  the  heavens. 


DISCOURSE    SIXTY-SECOND. 

THOMAS     M'CRIE,    D.  D. 

There  are  few  individuals  to  whose  honorable  exertions,  especially  in 
his  beloved  country,  the  cause  of  religion  and  of  literature  is  more  in- 
debted than  to  Dr.  M'Crie.  Born  at  Dunse,  in  Berwickshire,  November, 
1772,  educated  in  a  thorough  manner  at  the  University  of  Edinburg, 
and  at  Divinity  Hall,  he  was  Ucensed  to  preach  September  9th,  1795,  and 
in  the  year  following  was  ordained  over  the  church  of  Potterrow,  Edin- 
burg. His  excellent  Life  of  John  Knox,  published  in  1811,  caused  him  to 
be  widely  and  honorably  known ;  a  reputation  mcreased  by  several  other 
publications.  During  the  yeai's  1817  and  1818,  in  addition  to  other  du- 
ties, he  acted  as  Theological  Professor  to  the  religious  society  with  which 
he  was  connected,  the  labors  of  which  he  resumed  in  1834,  He  was  pre- 
parmg  a  life  of  Calvin,  when,  in  the  year  1835,  August  4th,  his  valuable 
labors  were  arrested  by  an  attack  of  apoplexy.  He  died  on  the  following 
day,  in  his  sixty-third  year. 

Whether  estimated  by  his  piety,  his  talents,  or  his  learning.  Dr. 
M'Crie  was  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of  the  Scottish  Secession 
Church.  The  pubUcations  which  he  has  left  to  the  world  are  numerous, 
and  of  great  value.  His  life  of  Knox  is  alone  a  sufficient  monument  to 
his  genius  and  Christian  worth.  A  volume  of  his  "  Sermons,  Lectures,  etc.," 
was  published  several  years  ago,  which  ought  to  be  given  to  the  Amer- 
ican pubhc.  No  one  can  peruse  the  following  admirable  sermon  without 
cov6tmg  the  pri\alege  of  possessing  more  of  the  productions  of  the  same 
eloquent  pen.  The  vexy  great  length  of  the  discourse  renders  it  neces- 
sary to  omit  a  few  less  important  paragraphs,  chiefly  introductory  and 
narrative  m  their  character. 


THE   PEAYER   OF   THE   THIEF   ON   THE   CEOSS. 

■"  Lord,  remember  me  when  Thou  comest  into  Thy  kingdom." — Luke,  xxiii.  42. 

Who  can  tell  what  these  words  convey  ?     None  but  He  to  whom 
they  were  addressed ;  who  saw  into  the  bottom  of  the  speaker's 


THE    PRAYER    OP    THE    THIEF    ON    THE    CROSS.        303 

heart,  approved  of  his  confession,  and  answered  his  petition  ex- 
ceedingly above  what  he  could  ask  or  think ;  when  He  replied, 
"  Yerily  I  say  unto  thee,  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  Me  in  Paradise?" 
It  was  not  a  time,  my  brethren,  for  many  words :  but  oh,  how  much 
is  expressed  by  these  two  short  sentences,  spoken  from  such  hearts, 
and  in  such  circumstances !  What  a  colloquy  was  this !  what  a 
communion  !  what  a  respite  from  torture  !  what  a  foretaste  of  Para- 
dise !  what  a  feast  on  a  cross  between  earth  and  heaven !  There  was 
no  opportunity  for  salutation  or  embracing,  or  the  exchanging  of  the 
symbolical  cup.  But  what  an  exchange  of  tender  looks  !  What  a 
conjunction  of  hearts !  what  an  intimate  friendship  on  so  short  an 
.  acquaintance !  what  a  joyful  farewell  before  so  awful  a  parting ! 

Tliink  you,  my  brethren,  that  either  of  the  twain  felt  at  this  mo- 
ment the  nails  with  which  they  were  transfixed  to  the  tree  ?  The 
soul  of  the  penitent  thief  was  filled  with  a  joy  unutterable,  which 
must  have  swallowed  up  all  sense  of  pain.  He  rejoiced  in  the  death 
by  which  he  now  glorified  God,  He  gloried  on  the  cross,  and  "  in 
the  cross."  True,  he  was  crucified  ;  but  then  he  was  "  crucified  with 
Christ,"  and  that  in  another  sense  than  his  unhappy  companion  was, 
or  than  any  of  the  spectators  of  the  scene  knew  or  apprehended. 
This  was  to  him  matter  of  ineffable  gloriation.  "  Blessed  day  on 
which  I  was  overtaken  and  seized  by  the  pursuviants  of  justice! 
Blessed  sentence  which  brought  me  into  the  company  and  acquaint- 
ance of  the  Saviour  of  sinners,  of  the  chief  of  sinners,  and  advanced 
me  to  the  high,  the  distinguished  honor  of  suffering  along  with  Him." 
At  that  moment,  too,  Jesus  rejoiced  in  spirit.  He  saw  of  the  travail 
of  his  soul,  and  was  satisfied.  He  felt  that  He  was  a  conqueror.  He 
had  already  begun  to  divide  the  spoil  ravished  from  principalities 
and  powers,  which  He  made  a  show  of  openly  triumphing  over  them 
on  this  cross.  In  the  conquest  which  He  had  just  achieved,  He  be- 
held an  earnest  of  His  subsequent  triumphs  over  the  god  of  this 
world,  and,  exhilarated  with  the  prospect,  He  "endured  the  cross, 
despising  the  shame." 

The  address  of  the  beheving,  penitent  malefactor,  was,  at  the  same 
time,  a  prayer,  a  confession  of  faith,  and  a  sermon.  But  no  such 
prayer  had  been  offered  up  since  "  men  began  to  call  on  the  name  of 
the  Lord  ;"  no  such  confession  of  faith  was  ever  made  by  council  or 
assembly  of  divines ;  no  such  sermon  was  ever  delivered  by  the  most 
powerful  and  eloquent  preacher.  And  then  the  Saviour's  reply! 
Many  a  compassionate,  benignant,  and  seasonable  answer  had  He 
vouchsafed  to  those  who  invoked  Him,  and  who  professed  their  faith 
in  Him,  but  none  of  them  equaled  this.     Pleased  with  the  confession 


304  THOMAS    M'CRIE. 

of  Nathanael,  He  said  to  him,  "  Thou  shalt  see  the  heaven  open,  and 
the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  on  the  Son  of  Man."  To 
Peter  He  had  said,  "  Blessed  art  thou,  Simon  Barjona,  for  flesh  and 
blood  hath  not  revealed  this  unto  thee,  but  My  Father  who  is  in 
heaven."  To  the  Syrophenician,  "  0  woman,  great  is  thy  faith ;  be 
it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt."  To  the  Eoman  centurion,  "  I  have 
not  found  such  faith:  no,  not  in  Israel."  And  to  His  disciples, 
"  Henceforth  I  will  not  drink  of  _the  fruit  of  the  vine  until  I  drink  it 
new  with  you  in  the  kingdom  of  God."  But  to  none  of  these  did  He 
say  as  unto  this  poor,  converted,  crucified  thief,  "  To-day  shalt  thou 
be  with  me  in  Paradise." 

He  had  made  many  converts  during  His  personal  ministry,  when 
He  was  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief  But  of  this 
man  He  had  made  a  convert  on  the  cross,  in  the  midst  of  great  agony 
of  body  and  soul,  and  therefore  He  rejoiced  in  him  above  all  His 
followers.  He  was  His  Benoni,  the  son  of  His  sorrow,  and  therefore 
He  made  him  His  Benjamin,  the  son  of  His  right  hand. 

But  let  us  examine  more  coolly  and  attentively  this  singular  ad- 
dress of  the  convict  on  the  cross.  Let  us  consider,  in  the  first  place, 
who  he  was,  and  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed ;  second- 
ly, the  situation  in  which  Jesus  was  when  he  addressed  Him ;  third- 
ly, the  profession  of  faith  which  it  contains ;  and  fourthly,  the  prayer 
which  it  expressed. 

I.  Consider  the  person  who  made  the  address^  and  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  ivas  placed.  He  was  a  thief  and  a  robber — one  who,  by 
his  own  confession,  merited  the  ignominious  death  which  he  was 
suffering.  Abandoning  the  path  of  honest  industry,  he  had  betaken 
himself  to  the  highway,  and  procured  his  livelihood  by  preying  on 
the  property  and  life  of  the  peaceable.  When  we  consider  the  char- 
acter of  Barabbas,  whom  they  preferred  to  Jesus,  and  the  design  for 
which  His  fellow -sufferers  were  selected,  we  may  be  sure  that  they 
were  criminals  of  the  worst  sort,  whose  practices  had  excited  general 
hatred  and  terror. 

We  all  know  what  the  characters  of  those  who  have  devoted 
themselves  to  this  mode  of  living  are — how  reckless  of  life,  how  des- 
titute of  principle — how  enslaved  to  every  base  and  malignant  pas- 
sion— how  dead  to  all  the  feelings  of  honor,  reputation,  compassion, 
or  compunction — how  insensible  to  the.  remonstrances  of  conscience,  or 
the  lessons  of  experience — ^how  regardless  of  God  or  man — how  disposed 
to  mock  at  every  thing  that  is  sacred,  at  death,  judgment,  and  eter- 
nity ;  you  can  not  point  to  a  class  of  men  from  whom  you  could  select 
an  individual  less  likely  to  be  affected  by  the  scene  of  the  crucifixion, 


THE    PRAYER    OP    THE    THIEF    ON    THE    CROSS.         305 

or  to  sympathize  with  the  meek,  and  patient,  and  forgiving  Jesus. 
The  conduct  of  the  thief  who  reviled  Him,  and  the  words  which  he 
is  represented  as  having  used,  are  just  what  we  would  have  expected 
from  such  a  person  in  such  circumstances.  Matthew  and  Mark,  in 
their  account  of  the  crucifixion,  say,  "  The  thieves,  also,  who  were 
crucified  with  Him,  reviled  Him,"  and  "  cast  the  same  in  His  teeth," 
from  which  we  might  conclude  that  both  acted  in  the  same  manner 
when  first  affixed  to  the  cross,  but  that  one  of  them  underwent  a 
sudden  change  in  his  sentiments,  which  produced  a  complete  altera- 
tion on  his  language,  and  led  him  to  justify  and  pray  to  the  Saviour 
whom  he  had  a  little  before  reviled  and  outraged. 

This  is  no  impossible  thing.  Transformations  as  wonderful  and 
as  sudden  have  been  effected.  Saul  of  Tarsus  was  arrested  in  the 
midst  of  his  mad  career,  and  he  who  was  "  breathing  out  threaten- 
ings"  against  all  who  called  on  the  name  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  was 
found  the  next  moment  invoking  that  name  of  which  he  had  been  "  a 
bliisphemer,"  and  with  the  most  humble  and  implicit  submission 
praying,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  Thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  The  jailor  of 
Philippi  is  another  example.  Having  found  the  prison  doors  open, 
and  supposing  that  Paul  and  Silas  had  escaped,  he  was  in  the  very 
act  of  sheathing  his  drawn  sword  in  his  own  bowels,  when  on  a  sud- 
den, on  the  speaking  of  a  few  words,  the  weapon  of  destruction 
dropped  from  his  hands,  and  the  bold  and  determined  suicide  hung 
trembling  on  the  knees  of  his  prisoners,  and  under  a  deep  concern 
about  the  safety,  not  of  his  bod}^,  but  liis  soul,  cried  out,  "  Sirs,  what 
must  I  do  to  be  saved?" 

The  same  power  which  was  so  visibly  exerted  in  these  instances,, 
could  have  easily  purified  the  fountain  of  ungodliness  in  this  man's 
heart  at  the  very  moment  that  the  words  of  bitter  derision  were  flow- 
ing from  his  tongue,  and  made  them  to  be  followed  by  the  sweet  and 
salutary  streams  of  blessing  and  prayer,  streaming  from  a  smitten,  soft- 
ened, opened,  and  sanctified  soul.  But  as  the  Evangelist  Luke  gives 
the  most  circumstantial  narrative  of  the  extraordinary  incident,  it  is 
more  natural  to  consider  his  detail  as  qualifying  and  explaining  the 
general  statement  of  his  brethren;  and  he  represents  only  one  of  the 
malefactors  as  reviling  Jesus,  and  the  other  as  vindicating  Him. 

Nor  is  it  uncommon  in  Scripture  to  afiirm  that  of  a  number  of 
persons  or  things  of  the  same  kind  which  is  true  of  one  of  them 
only.  Thus  we  are  told  that  the  ark  rested  on  the  mountains  of 
"  Ararat"  that  is  on  one  of  them ;  that  Lot  "  dwelt  in  the  cities  of 
the  plain,"  that  is  in  one  of  them  ;  that  "  the  soldiers  ran  and  filled 
a  sponge  with  vinegar,"  that  is  one  of  them  did  so.     In  like  manner- 

20 


306  THOMAS    M'CmE. 

we  are  told,  "the  tliieves  railed  on  Ilim,"  that  is  one  of  them  did  it. 
Although,  however,  the  person  mentioned  in  our  text  did  not  join 
in  the  blasphemies  of  his  comrade,  we  have  every  reason  for  think- 
ing that  the  cross  was  the  place  of  his  conversion  ;  and  that  he  came 
to  it  with  no  more  knowledge  of  Jesus,  and  no  more  love  to  Him 
than  his  fellow  had.  But  while  he  was  suspended  on  the  cross  his 
heart  was  changed — he  was  convinced  of  sin,  enlightened  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  Saviour,  who  was  crucified  along  with  him,  hum- 
bled, sanctified,  and  made  a  new  man.  That  the  influence  by  which 
this  was  brought  about  was  divine,  there  can  not  be  a  moment's 
doubt.  The  only  question  is — as  the  Spirit  of  God  does  not  ordi- 
narily produce  this  change  on  the  minds  of  adults  without  the  inter- 
vention and  use  of  external  means — ^by  what  instrumentality  was 
this  man  converted,  and  how  did  he  attain  that  knowledge  of  the 
truth  concerning  Christ  which  he  displayed  in  his  address  to  Him  ? 

When  Jesus  began  to  teach  in  the  synagogue  of  His  native  place 
His  townsmen  were  astonished,  and  exclaimed,  "  Whence  hath  this 
man  this  wisdom  ?  Is  not  this  the  carpenter's  son  ?  Whence  then 
hath  He  all  these  things  ?"  There  is  reason  for  putting  the  same 
question  as  to  this  thief,  and  under  a  similar  feeling  of  astonishment. 
Like  others  who  have  followed  his  unlawful  trade,  we  have  every 
reason  to  think  he  was  brought  up  in  ignorance  and  profaneness,  and 
that  he  was  as  destitute  of  religious  knowledge  as  he  was  of  moral 
honesty.  He  was  too  much  occupied  with  his  trade  to  attend  on  the 
sermons  or  witness  the  miracles  of  Jesus  ;  and  his  exclusion  from  all 
sober  and  decent  society,  must  have  prevented  him  from  hearing  of 
them  by  the  report  of  others. 

By  Avhat  means  then  did  he  acquire  the  knowledge  of  Him  ?  In 
his  prison  he  might  hear  of  His  arraignment  and  sentence  ;  and  after 
he  knew  that  He  was  to  be  crucified  along  with  him,  curiosity  would 
induce  him  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  His  condemnation.  This 
might  perhaps  satisfy  him  that  Jesus  was  no  evil-doer — that  He  had 
been  guilty  of  no  murder,  or  theft,  or  sedition,  and  that  the  envy  of 
the  chief  priests  had  delivered  Him  up  to  Pilate  ;  and  it  is  probable 
that  his  companion  also  knew  all  this,  and  had  the  same  conviction 
in  his  breast,  although  he  railed  on  Him  as  an  impostor.  But  it  was 
at  Golgotha,  and  when  hanging  on  the  accursed  tree  that  he  acquired 
that  knowledge  which  issued  in  his  conversion.  And  what  were  the 
means  of  his  instruction  ?  None  that  I  can  discover  or  tell  you  of, 
my  brethren,  but  what  he  was  able  to  glean  from  the  speeches  of 
those  who  were  below,  from  the  few  words  which  Jesus  had  sjDoken, 
and  from  the  inscription  on  His  cross. 


THE    PRAYER    OP    THE    THIEF    ON    THE    CROSS.        gQT 

The  first  lie  had  heard  say,  "  He  saved  others  ;"  and  who  can  tell 
■what  light  this  saying  might  let  into  an  understanding  opened  by 
the  Spirit  of  God  ?  He  had  also  heard  them  speak  of  Him,  although 
with  incredulity,  as  "  the  Christ,  the  King  of  Israel,  the  Son  of  God, 
who  trusted  in  God  that  He  would  deliver  Him."  He  had  heard 
the  remarkable  and  heart-melting  prayer  which  Jesus  offered  up  for 
His  murderers,  when  they  were  in  the  act  of  nailing  Him  to  the  tree, 
"  Father  forgive  them ;  for  they  know  not  what  they  do  ;"  and  he 
had  a  practical  commentary  on  them  in  the  meekness  and  patience 
with  which  he  "  endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame."  And  lie 
had  an  opportunity  of  reading  the  inscription  which  was  written 
over  His  head  in  legible  characters,  in  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin, 
"  This  is  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  King  of  the  Jews," 

This,  my  brethren,  was  at  once  the  text  and  the  sermon  by  which 
the  thief  was  converted :  and  accordingly  the  language  of  his 
address  and  prayer  is  borrowed  from  it.  He  believed  that  He  was 
"Jesus"  a  Saviour.  He  believed  that  He  was  a  "King;"  and  he 
believed  that  His  cross  was  the  way  to  His  crown,  for  it  witnessed 
of  it,  and  it  pointed  to  it.  And  believing  this,  and  encouraged  by 
it  to  put  his  trust  in  Him,  he  said,  "  Lord,  remember  me  when  Thou 
comest  into  Thy  kingdom."  Think  it  not  strange — at  least  think  it 
not  incredible — that  the  words  of  scorn  and  derision  spoken  by  an 
infatuated,  infuriated  mob,  should  be  made  the  means  of  so  much, 
good  to  this  man's  soul.  They  were  truth,  saving  truth,  and  con- 
tained the  substance  of  the  Gospel,  and  of  what  Jesus  bad  taught 
concerning  Himself. 

Think  it  not  incredible  that  the  inscription  devised  by  an  unbe- 
lieving and  unjust  judge,  should  have  been  the  means  of  delivering 
a  criminal,  whom  he  had  condemned  to  an  excruciating  death,  from 
a  doom  still  more  awful.  It  contained  the  very  truth  which  the 
person  to  whom  it  referred  had  testified  when  He  stood  at  the  bar 
of  Pilate,  and  it  was  devised  and  written  at  the  secret  instigation  of 
Him  whose  "  determinate  counsel"  the  Roman  Governor  executed  in 
tliis  as  well  as  in  other  parts  of  this  divinely  ordered  transaction. 
Many  an  excellent,  savory,  and  saving  sermon  has  been  preached 
from  the  insidious  saying  of  the  arch-priest  Caiaphas,  "It  is  expe- 
dient that  one  man  should  die  for  the  people,  and  that  the  whole 
whole  nation  perish  not."  And  why,  in  that  year,  and  on  that  day, 
which  was  big  with  the  eternal  destinies  of  a  world,  to  which  all  the 
prophets  and  holy  men  from  the  beginning  had  looked  forward,  and 
all  holy  men  to  the  end  shall  look  back,  why  at  such  a  time  should 
not  a  pagan  magistrate  have  been  made  to  prophesy  as  well  as  a 


308  THOMAS    M'CRIE. 

Jewish  priest  ?  And  wliy  sliould  not  his  prophecy  have  been  the 
means  of  enlightening  the  mind  of  a  robber  and  qualifying  him  for 
confessing  the  dying  Redeemer  of  sinners,  both  Jewish  and  Gentile  ? 

But,  my  brethren,  we  are  to  remember  that  it  is  one  thing  for 
us  to  perceive  the  meaning  of  this  inscription,  possessing  as  we  do, 
the  whole  New  Testament,  yea,  the  whole  Bible,  as  a  commentary 
on  it,  and  having  leisure  to  compare  the  commentary  with  the  text ; 
and  that  it  was  quite  another  thing  for  the  thief  without  any  such 
helps,  to  decipher  its  language  and  extricate  its  sense:  and  that, 
too,  while  he  hung  on  the  cross  in  a  state  of  exquisite  bodily  pain. 
That  he  should  have  been  able  to  do  this,  and  by  what  process  of 
thought  he  came  to  the  conclusion  which  he  drew,  will  continue 
always  to  be  matter  of  wonder — a  monument  of  the  inscrutable 
wisdom  and  amazing  grace  of  Him  who  works  by  whatever  means 
it  pleaseth  Him  to  employ. 

II.  Consider  the  situation  in  which  Jesus  was  placed  when  this  man 
addressed  Him  in  the  words  of  the  text.  During  His  personal  ministry, 
the  rays  of  His  glory  often  pierced  the  vail  of  His  outward  humil- 
iation, so  that  those  that  saw  its  manifestations  had  all  their  doubts 
dissipated,  and  were  assured  that  He  came  from  God,  and  was  the 
only-begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth.  But  this  man 
became  acquainted  with  Him,  and  beheld  Him  not  at  Jordan  where 
heaven  pronounced  Him  its  Son ;  or,  at  Cana  of  Galilee,  where  He 
manifested  forth  His  glory ;  or  by  the  lake  of  Tiberias,  where  He 
fed  the  multitude :  or  in  Bethany,  where  He  raised  Lazarus :  or  in 
Tabor,  where  He  was  transfigured :  but  he  beheld  Him  for  the  first 
time  at  Golgotha,  where,  instead  of  speaking  as  never  man  spake. 
He  was  dumb  as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers,  and  instead  of  doing 
mighty  works,  was  crucified  through  weakness.  At  this  time  His 
glory  was  not  merely  under  a  cloud ;  it  was  in  an  eclipse,  and 
seemed  to  have  set  never  to  reappear.  It  was  the  hour  and  power 
of  darkness. 

Formerly  He  had  been  followed  by  multitudes,  who  crowded  to 
Him  and  thronged  Him,  and  when  He  withdrew  they  followed  Him 
and  sought  Him  out  with  great  eagerness — the  whole  world  was 
gone  out  after  Him,  and  they  talked  of  making  Him  a  king,  so  that 
the  chief  priests  became  alarmed,  and  His  disciples,  seeing  matters 
in  so  prosperous-like  a  train,  thought  it  high  time  to  look  out  for 
themselves,  and  to  secure  the  most  honorable  places  in  that  king- 
dom which  He  was  about  to  erect.  But  this  flattering  prospect  had 
evanished.  The  multitude  which  followed  Him  for  a  time  had 
melted  away  gradually,  until  He  was  left  alone  with  the  twelve ; 


THE    PRAYER    OP    THE    THIEF    ON    THE    CROSS.         309 

and  at  last  He  was  forsaken  by  tliem  also.  One  of  tliem  betrayed 
Him,  another  abjured  Him,  and  all  the  rest  fled  and  were  scattered; 
and  their  unfaithful  and  cowardly  desertion  had  affixed  a  stigma  on 
His  pretensions,  which  all  the  malice  and  misrepresentation  of  His 
open  adversaries  had  not  been  able  to  inflict. 

When  He  was  arraigned  before  the  high  priest,  hopes  of  His 
safety  still  remained :  for  the  Eomans  retained  the  power  of  life  and 
death  in  their  own  hands,  and  Pilate  was  not  only  disposed  to  let 
Him  go,  but  labored  to  accomplish  His  release.  Even  after  He  was 
condemned  to  die,  the  case  did  not  appear  desperate :  for  those  who 
had  witnessed  His  miracles,  and  seen  the  band  sent  to  apprehend 
Him  struck  to  the  ground,  merely  by  His  saying  to  them,  "  I  am 
He"  might  flatter  themselves  that  His  enemies  would  be  unable  to 
carry  their  sentence  into  execution.  This  last  hope  had  proved  fal- 
lacious. He  had  suffered  Himself  to  be  led  as  a  lamb  to  the 
slaughter.  He  was  now  affixed  to  the  tree  and  was  fast  bleeding  to 
death.  There  He  hung  between  two  notorious  malefactors,  dis- 
owned by  all  His  former  friends,  insulted  over  by  His  enemies, 
heaven  shut  against  His  prayer,  hell  gaping  for  Him  as  its  prey.  It 
was  in  these  circumstances,  when  the  cause  of  Jesus  Avas  in  the 
most  desperate-like  condition,  that  this  man,  openly  and  for  the  first 
time,  professed  his  faith  in  Him. 

III.  Consider  the  import  of  the  profession  contained  in  His  address. 
Had  he  merely  professed  his  belief  that  Jesus  was  an  innocent  man 
— that  He  had  done  nothing  amiss  or  worthy  of  death,  it  would 
have  been  a  great  deal.  Had  he  avowed  that  he  thought  Him  no 
impostor,  but  a  true  prophet,  this  would  have  been  more  than  could 
have  been  expected,  considering  the  circumstances  in  which  both 
were  placed.  How  hesitatingly  and  suspiciously  did  the  two  disci- 
ples, on  the  road  to  Emmaus,  express  themselves  on  this  subject: — 
"We  trusted  that  it  had  been  He  that  should  have  redeemed 
Israel." 

But  this  man  went  far  beyond  this  point  in  his  profession.  He 
addressed  Him  as  "  Lord."  The  chief  priests  and  rulers  of  the  Jews 
spoke  of  Him  in  the  most  contemptuous  style — "  this  fellow"  and 
"  that  deceiver."  When  Peter  was  challenged  as  one  of  His  disci- 
ples, he  said  that  he  knew  not  "  the  man."  The  highest  epithet  that 
the  disciples  conld  give  Him  after  they  had  received  a  re]3ort  of  His 
resurrection,  was,  "Jesus  of  Nazareth,  a  prophet  mighty  in  word 
and  deed."  The  thief  addresses  Him  now,  by  that  title  which  the 
apostles  gave  Him,  after  He  had  shown  Himself  to  them  by  infalli- 
ble proofs.     They  could  say  "the  Lord  is  risen:"  but  they  could 


310  THOMAS    M'CRIE. 

not,  like  this  thief,  call  Him  Lord,  when  He  hung  on  the  cross.  ISTor 
was  this  a  mere  title  of  respect.  The  cross  was  no  place  for  compli- 
mentary or  ceremonious  language.  In  such  circumstances  he  would 
not  have  owned  Him  at  all  if  he  had  not  been  persuaded  that  He 
was  the  Lord  of  all,  of  life  and  death,  of  heaven  and  hell.  And  as 
he  addressed  Him  as  Lord,  so  he  avowed  his  conviction  that  He  was 
going  to  take  possession  of  a  kingdom. 

Wonderful  faith  !  A  dying  man,  a  worm  and  no  man,  reproach 
of  men  and  despised  of  the  people,  the  lowest  of  the  jDcople,  he 
addresses  as  Lord,  and  worships  Him !  One  whom  he  had  seen 
arrayed  in  derision  with  the  mock  ensigns  of  royalty,  and  then 
stripped  of  them  and  led  away  to  be  crucified,  whom  he  had  heard 
taunted  with  His  kingly  claims,  and  in  vain  desired  to  come  down 
from  the  cross  to  give  a  proof  of  their  validity,  he,  nevertheless, 
saluted,  in  deep  earnest,  as  a  king ;  and  while  God  had  set  up  the 
right  hand  of  His  adversaries,  made  all  His  enemies  to  rejoice, 
shortened  the  days  of  His  youth,  covered  Him  with  shame,  and 
profaned  His  crown  by  casting  it  to  the  ground,  he,  strong  in  faith, 
staggered  not,  but,  against  hope,  believed  in  hope,  and  avowed  his 
confident  assurance  that  He  was  about  to  ascend  the  throne  of  His 
kingdom ! 

Verily,  such  faith  as  this  had  not  been  evinced  from  the  days  of 
the  Father  of  the  faithful.  And  then  how  superior  do  his  concep- 
tions of  the  nature  of  Christ's  kingdom  appear  to  have  been !  The 
Jews  of  that  time  had  very  gross  and  carnal  notions  of  the  reign  of 
Messiah.  They  imagined  that  He  would  appear  as  a  temporal  and 
earthly  monarch,  emancipate  them  from  the  thralldom  of  a  foreign 
yoke,  and  make  the  nations  tributary  to  them.  The  disciples  of 
Jesus  had  imbibed  some  of  these  prejudices,  to  which  they  clung 
pertinaciously,  in  spite  of  all  the  instructions  of  their  Master;  nor 
were  they  altogether  weaned  from  this  erroneous  and  fond  conceit 
by  His  crucifixion,  as  appears  from  the  question  which  they  put  to 
Him  after  He  was  risen:  "Lord,  wilt  Thou  at  this  time  restore  the 
kingdom  to  Israel?" 

How  superior  were  the  views  which  the  converted  thief  ac- 
quired on  this  subject  in  a  short  time,  to  those' of  the  disciples  after 
they  had  for  years  listened  to  the  spiritual  doctrine,  and  contem- 
plated the  heavenly  character  of  their  Master !  The  prospect  of  His 
death  was  repugnant  to  all  their  ideas,  and  destructive  of  all  their 
expectations  of  His  kingly  glory:  and  when  they  saw  Him  led 
away  to  be  crucified,  their  hopes  died  away  within  them.  He  owned 
Him  to  be  a  king  in  the  lowest  step  of  His  abasement,  and  believed 


THE    PRAYER    OF    THE    THIEF    ON    THE    CROSS.         311 

that  His  cross  was  the  pedestal  by  wliicTi  He  would  mount  to  Hls 
throne  in  the  highest  heavens. 

IV,  Let  us^  in  fine^  consider  this  address  as  a  prayer.  It  was  said 
of  Saul  of  Tarsus,  after  his  conversion,  and  as  one  mark  of  that 
change  which  he  had  undergone,  "  Behold  he  prayeth !"  He  had 
never  prayed  aright  before  that  period,  though,  as  a  strict  Pharisee, 
he  had  no  doubt  often  practiced  the  external  form.  But  this  was 
probably  the  first  time  that  ever  the  thief  had  engaged  in  the  exer- 
cise ;  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  he  had  offered  to  God  the  sacrifice 
of  the  lips ;  prayer  is  not  an  employment  reconcilable  with  the  trade 
which  he  had  followed.  It  is  necessary  for  such  persons  to  banish 
the  fear,  and  consequently  to  exclude  the  thought  of  God.  If  that 
sacred  name  had  come  into  his  mouth  it  would  be  in  the  form  of 
hellish  oaths  or  blasphemies.  But  now,  behold  he  prayeth  !  and 
that  in  deep  earnest.  He  prayed  to  Jesus,  whom  his  fellow-criminal 
was  blaspheming,  invoked  Him  as  Lord,  and  begged  of  Him  the 
greatest  favor  which,  as  a  dying  man,  he  could  ask. 

Criminals  have  often  been  seen  praying  on  a  scaffold,  and  they 
have  earnestly  begged  for  a  pardon,  or  a  respite,  or  some  other  boon 
from  their  judges :  but  this  is  the  only  instance  in  which  a  criminal 
was  found  supplicating  and  praying  to  his  fellow-sufferer.  And 
what  was  the  petition  which  he  presented  ?  It  was  not  for  deliver- 
ance from  death  or  for  any  temporal  blessing.  He  did  not  even  se- 
riously prefer  the  request  of  his  comrade,  "  Save  Thyself  and  us." 
He  was  perfectly  resigned  to  his  fate.  He  was  willing  to  endure  the 
punishment  due  to  his  crime  by  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  and  to 
expiate,  by  his  own  death,  the  offense  which  he  had  done  to  society, 
while  he  who  hung  beside  him  expiated  the  sin  which  he  had  com- 
mitted against  heaven.  Lord  !  I  have  no  desire  to  live.  It  is  good 
for  me  to  be  here.  It  is  better  for  me  to  die  with  Thee  than  to  reign 
with  Caisar.  All  my  desire  is  to  be  with  Thee  where  Thou  art 
going ;  and  0  remember  Thy  unworthy  fellow-sufferer  when  thou 
art  come  into  Thy  kingdom  ! 

What  unfeigned  and  contrite  humility  does  this  petition  breathe ! 
He  jDrays  as  became  one  who  felt,  and  had  confessed  himself  to  be  a 
great  sinner,  and  who  could  have  no  possible  claims  but  what  were 
founded  on  the  mere  and  unbought  benignity  of  Him  whom  he  ad- 
dressed. AVhen  the  two  sons  of  Zebedee  requested  to  be  permitted 
to  sit,  the  one  at  the  right  and  the  other  at  the  left  hand  of  their 
Master  in  His  kingdom.  He  asked  them,  "  Can  ye  drink  of  the  cup 
that  I  drink  of?  or  can  ye  be  baptized  with  the  baptism  with  which 
I   am  baptized?"     Here  was  one  who  was  drinking  of  his  bitter 


312  THOMAS    M'CRIE, 

cup,  and  baptized  with  His  bloody  baptism ;  but  he  bad  no  such 
ambitious  wish,  and  presumed  to  present  no  such  arrogant  request. 
His  heart  was  not  haughty :  his  eyes  were  not  lofty :  neither  did  he 
aspire  to  great  things.  A  genuine  convert,  his  heart  was  like  that 
of  a  weaned  child.  All  that  he  ventured  to  ask  was,  that  Jesus 
would  remember  him  when  He  came  into  His  kingdom.  But 
though  presented  with  the  profoundest  humility,  and  expressive  of 
the  greatest  submission,  still  this  was  a  great  request. 

O  how  much,  my  brethren,  is  included  in  these  two  words,  ad- 
dressed by  a  convinced  sinner  to  the  Saviour,  "  remember  me  /" 
The  eternal  salvation  of  a  sinner  hangs  upon  them.  If  He  remem- 
bers him,  all  is  well ;  if  He  forgets  him,  woe  unto  him,  for  it  shall  be 
ill  with  him.  Had  not  Christ  remembered  and  thought  upon  us  in 
our  low  estate,  and  undertaken  our  cause,  we  would  have  been  hope- 
less. Had  He  not  remembered  His  people,  and  borne  their  names 
on  His  breastplate,  when  He  approached  God  as  the  Great  High 
Priest  to  make  reconciliation  for  iniquity,  their  guilt  would  have  re- 
mained. Did  He  not  remember  them,  when  they  are  lying  pol- 
luted in  their  blood,  and  say  to  them,  "  Live  !"  they  would  die  in 
their  sins.  Did  He  not  continue  to  remember  them,  and  j^ray  for 
them,  and  help  them  by  His  Spirit,  he  that  desires  to  have  them  for 
his  prey  would  gain  his  object,  and  they  would  never  see  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  Had  the  penitent  thief  dropped  out  of  the  memory 
of  Christ,  lie  would  have  dropped  into  hell  at  death,  along  with  his 
blaspheming  companion:  for,  "Nor  thieves  nor  revilers  shall  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God."  How  could  he.  an  ignorant,  lawless,  God- 
despising,  heaven-daring  profligate,  presume  to  lift  uj^  his  ej^es,  or  to 
apply  at  the  gates  of  paradise,  unless  he  had  ground  to  believe  that 
his  gracious  and  merciful  fellow-sufferer  would  remember  him? 
But  if  he  continued  to  think  of  Him  and  own  Him,  what  might  he 
not  expect  ? 

In  fine,  this  prayer  was  offered  believingly,  as  well  as  fervently. 
He  believed  that  Jesus  had  the  highest  interest  with  the  Father,  who 
would  not  refuse  any  thing  which  should  be  craved  by  Him,  who 
had  laid  down  His  life  at  His  command ;  that  He  was  about  to  be 
put  in  possession  of  all  power  in  heaven  and  earth ;  and  that  this 
included  authority  to  bestow  its  honors  and  rewards  on  whomsoever 
He  would.  And  he  believed  that  such  was  the  grace,  condescension 
and  compassion  of  the  dying  Redeemer,  that  He  would  not  reject 
the  application  of  a  poor,  convicted,  condemned  criminal,  but  wash 
him  from  his  sins  in  His  blood,  and  sanctify  him  by  the  power  of 
His  Spirit,  and  present  him  faultless  before  the  throne  of  His  glory 


THE    PRAYER    OP  THE    TIIIEP    ON    TITE    CROSS.        313 

■with  exceeding  joy.  Nor  did  he  believe  in  vain,  nor  was  tLe  answer 
of  his  prayer  long  delayed  or  dubiously  expressed ;  for  Jesus  in- 
stantly said  to  him,  "  Verily,  I  say  unto  tliee,  to-day  shalt  thou  be 
with  Me  in  paradise." 

In  reviewing  this  wonderful  scene,  a  variety  of  reflections,  all 
conducive  to  practical  improvement,  crowd  upon  the  mind.  Let  us 
dwell  a  little  on  a  few  of  them. 

First.  We  have  here  an  indisputable  instance  of  real  conversion. 
Examples  of  this  change  have  occurred  in  every  age,  as  to  the  gen- 
uineness of  which  we  have  no  reasonable  ground  to  doubt.  But  the 
case  of  the  penitent  thief  is  accompanied  with  evidence  the  most  ir- 
resistible and  convincing.  Who  can  doubt  that  on  the  cross  a  sin- 
ner was  converted  from  the  evil  of  his  ways,  a  soul  saved  from  death, 
and  a  multitude  of  sins  hid  ?  When  the  Lord  writcth  up  the  people 
whom  He  hath  formed  for  Himself,  JIc  will  count  that  this  man  was 
born  again  on  Calvary,  While  I  run  over  the  credible  marks  of  a 
saving  change  which  he  exhibited,  let  it  bo  your  employment,  my 
brethren,  to  examine  and  see  whether  they  are  to  be  found  in  you  also. 
He  confessed  himself  to  be  a  sinner  and  worthy  of  death,  when 
no  creature  exacted  this  confession,  and  when  it  could  be  of  no 
earthly  advantage  to  him.  His  heart  was  penetrated  with  a  reveren- 
tial fear  of  God,  which  made  him  not  only  refrain  from  offending 
Him  himself,  but  shudder  at  hearing  what  was  offensive  to  Him  from 
the  lips  of  another.  He  entertained  just,  and  high,  and  lionorable 
views  of  the  Saviour.  He  looked  to  Him  on  the  cross,  and  placed 
all  his  hopes  of  salvation  on  His  merciful  remembrance  of  him. 
He  prayed  to  Him,  and  committed  his  soul  to  Him  as  the  Lord 
of  the  invisible  world.  He  gave  every  evidence  which  was  in  his 
power  of  the  truth  of  his  faith,  repentance,  and  love.  His  hands 
and  feet  were  immovably  fixed  to  the  tree.  Nothing  was  left  free 
to  him  but  his  heart  and  his  tongue,  and  these  he  dedicated  wholly 
to  God,  and  employed  to  the  honor  of  Christ.  His  conduct  corre- 
sponded to  the  inspired  criterion,  and  verified  it:  "With  the  heart 
man  believeth  unto  righteousness,  and  with  the  mouth  confession 
is  made  unto  salvation." 

He  not  only  deplored  his  own,  but  he  also  faithfully,  yet  meekly, 
reproved  the  sin  of  his  companion,  and  of  the  multitude  which  sur- 
rounded him,  and  used  all  the  means  which  were  in  his  power  to 
arrest  their  ungodly  career,  and  to  bring  them  to  repentance.  He 
was  clothed  with  humility.  His  affections  were  set  on  things  above, 
and  not  on  things  on  the  earth.  His  conversation  was  in  heaven. 
No  corrupt  communication  proceeded  from  hLs  mouth,  but  that  which 


314  THOMAS    M'CRIE. 

was  good  to  tlie  use  of  edifying.  All  bitterness,  and  wrath,  and 
anger,  and  clamor,  and  evil-speaking  lie  put  away  from  liim  with 
all  malice  ;  he  was  kind,  tender-hearted,  forgiving ;  and  was  not  this 
a  proof  that  God,  for  Christ's  sake,  had  forgiven  him  ? 

Who  imagines  that  if  this  man  had  been  let  down  from  the  cross 
he  would  have  returned  to  his  old  companions  and  his  old  practices  ? 
— who  doubts  that  he  that  stole  would  have  stolen  no  more,  but  have 
wrought  with  his  hands  that  he  might  give  to  him  that  needeth  ;  that 
he  would  have  been  a  bright  and  living  example  of  renovation ;  that 
he  would  have  joined  himself  to  the  apostles,  and  continued  stead- 
fastly in  their  doctrine  and  fellowship,  and  in  breaking  of  bread,  and 
in  pra3'er  ?  Would  to  God  that  all  that  hear  me  this  day  were  both 
almost  and  altogether  such  as  this  malefactor  was,  except  the  nails 
by  which  he  was  af&xed  to  the  tree  ! 

Secondly.  We  have  here  a  distinguished  proof  of  the  power  of 
Divine  grace.  Speaking  of  what  he  had  been,  and  contrasting  it 
with  what  he  had  become,  Paul  exclaims,  "  The  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  was  exceeding  abundant !"  We  can  not  think  of  the 
conversion  of  this  man  without  making  the  same  reflection.  He  had 
been  a  great  sinner,  an  ignorant,  profane,  ungodly,  lawless,  hardened 
rufiian. 

But  0 !  how  changed  from  what  he  was !  so  much  so  that  his 
former  associates,  who  had  known  him  most  intimately,  could  not 
now  know  him  to  be  the  same  person.  He  is,  indeed,  become  a  new 
man,  a  new  creature  :  "  Old  things  are  passed  away,  behold  all  things 
are  become  new."  The  lion,  who  had  gone  about  seeking  whom  he 
might  devour,  is  changed  into  the  lamb ;  the  blasphemer  into  a 
preacher  of  righteousness  ;  the  robber  into  a  reprover  of  vice.  And 
how  sudden  the  transformation  !  He  came  to  the  cross  with  all  the 
evil  passions  rankling  in  his  breast,  and  he  had  scarcely  been  affixed 
to  it,  when  their  poison  was  plucked  out,  and  they  gave  place  to 
mildness,  gentleness,  and  compassion  for  the  sufferings  of  others. 
He  came  to  it  with  his  mouth  filled  with  cursing  and  bitterness, 
and  when  upon  it,  we  find  him  employed  only  in  praying  and 
exhorting.  He  was  lifted  up  on  the  cross  polluted  with  the  blood 
of  others,  he  was  taken  down  from  it  washed  from  his  sins  in  the 
blood  of  Christ.  He  was  suspended  as  a  malefactor,  and  he  died  as  a 
martyr. 

What  can  withstand  or  resist  the  power  of  the  grace  which  pro- 
duced such  a  change  as  this  ?  What  is  too  hard,  what  can  be  diffi- 
cult for  it  ?  It  can  pardon  the  greatest  sins,  subdue  the  strongest 
corruptions,  eradicate  the  most  deep-rooted  prejudices,  cure  the  most 


THE  PRATER  OF  THE  THIEF  ON  THE  CROSS,    315 

inveterate  habits ;  in  a  word,  change  the  most  desperately  wicked 
heart. 

TJdrdly.  Contemplate  in  this  scene  an  instance  of  late  conversion. 
It  was  the  last  hour  with  this  malefactor.  His  days  were  numbered, 
and  the  last  of  them  had  dawned  on  him  in  as  hopeless  a  condition 
as  ever — with  all  his  sins  upon  him,  unrepented  of  and  unpardoned, 
without  the  smallest  preparation  for  appearing  before  his  righteous 
and  impartial  judge.  He  was  brought  out  of  his  cell,  he  was  led 
away  to  be  crucified,  he  was  lifted  upon  the  cross,  he  hung  over  the 
yawning  pit  which  was  ready  to  receive  him,  when  the  Saviour,  who 
was  at  his  right  hand,  had  compassion  on  him,  apprehended  him  by 
His  grace,  and  plucked  him  as  a  brand  from  the  fire.  Miraculous 
escape  !  Wonderful  intervention  !  Ineffable  expression  of  the  pa- 
tience and  mercy  of  Him  who  is  God  and  not  man  !  In  one  and  the 
same  day  this  man  was  in  the  gall  of  bitterness,  and  in  the  delights 
of  paradise ;  associated  with  felons,  and  admitted  into  the  society  of 
angels;  in  concord  with  Belial,  and  in  fellowship  with  Christ. 

This  singular  fact  is  recorded  in  Scripture ;  and  we  know  that 
whatever  was  written  aforetime,  was  written  for  our  learning.  It 
teaches  us  by  example  what  our  Saviour  taught  by  parable,  that 
persons  may  be  called  into  God's  vineyard  at  the  last  hour,  and  that 
He  will  bestow  upon  them  the  gift  of  eternal  life  through  Jesus 
Christ,  as  well  as  upon  those  who  have  borne  the  burden  and  heat 
of  the  day.  And  shall  their  eye  be  evil  because  He  is  good  ?  Or 
shall  we  be  ashamed  or  afraid  to  produce  this  example,  and  to  point 
to  the  encouragement  which  it  holds  out  because  some  will  speak 
evil  of  the  good  waj's  of  God,  or  others  will  abuse  His  tender  mercy 
to  their  own  perdition  ?  No  !  while  there  is  life  there  is  hope — 
while  sinners  are  on  God's  footstool  they  may  look  up  to  the  throne 
of  His  grace.  He  waits  to  be  gracious.  His  long-suffering  is  salva- 
tion. This  message  we  are  warranted  to  carry  into  the  cell  of  the 
convict — to  the  bedside  of  the  dying  profligate — and  to  proclaim  it 
in  public  to  persons  of  all  ages. 

The  most  hoary-headed  sinner  in  this  assembly  may  find  mercy 
of  the  Lord.  Though  thou  hast  provoked  God  and  grieved  Him  for 
forty,  fifty,  sixty,  seventy,  fourscore  years,  yet  to-day,  if  thou  wilt 
hear  His  voice,  and  harden  not  your  heart,  thou  shalt  enter  into  His 
rest,  and  be  received  into  His  glory.  You  need  not  say,  "  Who  shall 
ascend  into  heaven  to  bring  Christ  down?"  He  who  was  near  to  the 
thief  on  the  cross,  is  near  to  jovl  in  the  preaching  of  the  cross,  O, 
then,  delay  not  to  improve  the  precious  season  which  will  not  last 
long,  which  passeth  away,  and  will  soon  come  to  a  close  !     Look  to 


816  THOMAS    M'CRIE. 

Him,  believe  on  Him,  cry  to  Him,  confessing  your  sins,  "  Lord, 
remember  me,  now  when  Thou  art  come  into  Thy  kingdom."  Look 
on  Him  whom  you  have  pierced  by  your  iniquities,  until  your  hearts 
are  smitten  with  the  sight,  and  you  are  made  to  mourn  as  for  an  only 
son,  and  to  be  in  bitterness  as  for  a  first-born ;  and  He  will  heal  you 
by  the  virtue  of  His  stripes,  and  by  the  sovereign  ef&cacy  of  His  free 
spirit. 

But  this  example,  while  it  invites  to  repentance,  gives  no  encour- 
agement to  presumption.  It  has  been  justly  remarked  that  one  in- 
stance of  conversion  at  the  latest  period  of  life  has  been  recorded  in 
the  Bible,  that  none  may  despair,  and  hut  one  instance,  that  none 
may  presume,  or  delay  this  important  work  to  the  last.  Not  to  insist 
on  the  singularity  of  this  man's  situation,  and  the  propriety  of  the 
Eedeemer's  displaying  the  power  of  His  grace,  and  the  virtue  of  His 
blood  when  hanging  on  the  cross  by  a  signal  and  extraordinary  act 
of  mercy,  the  history  of  the  converted  malefactor  affords  not  a 
shadow  of  encouragement  or  excuse  to  those  who  resist  the  calls  of 
the  Gospel,  and  procrastinate  repentance;  for  he  had  not  enjoyed 
those  calls,  nor  is  there  any  good  reason  for  thinking  that  he  ever 
heard  or  saw  the  Saviour  before. 

It  is  sinful  to  limit  the  holy  One,  and  to  despair  of  His  mercy 
and  ability  to  save,  in  the  most  extreme  case  ;  but  it  is  awfully  sinful, 
it  is  a  fearful  tempting  and  provoking  of  the  Most  High,  to  delay 
repentance  in  the  hope  of  finding  mercy  at  a  future  period.  When 
put  into  plain  language  it  just  amounts  to  this,  "  I  will  continue  in 
sin  because  the  grace  of  God  abounds.  I  will  go  on  to  disobey  Him, 
and  rebel  against  Him,  and  affront  Him,  in  the  confidence  that  He 
will  pardon  me  whenever  I  shall  be  pleased  to  turn  to  Him,  and  that 
He  will  receive  me  when  I  am  weary  of  sinning,  and  can  no  longer 
find  pleasure  in  it." 

If  this  is  not  to  "  sin  willfully,  after  having  received  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  truth" — if  it  is  not  to  "  sin  the  sin  unto  death,"  it  is  some- 
thing very  like  it.  What  can  such  persons  expect  but  that  God  will 
pronounce  against  them  His  fearful  oath  of  exclusion,  cease  to  strive 
with  them  any  longer  by  His  Spirit,  say  to  the  ministers  of  His  word 
and  of  His  providence  "  Let  them  alone,"  and  give  them  up  to  the 
uncontrolled  operation  of  their  own  corruptions,  increased  and  aggra- 
vated by  indulgence,  and  by  the  influence  of  the  god  of  this  Avorld. 

How  know  you  that  you  shall  have  time  for  repentance  ?  You 
mav  be  struck  dead  in  a  single  moment,  in  the  very  act  of  sinning  with 
a  high  hand.  Or  you  may  be  struck  motionless  and  senseless,  without 
a  tongue  to  confess  your  sins,  or  your  faith  in  the  Saviour — without 


THE    PRATER    OF    THE    THIEF    ON    THE    CROSS.        317 

an  eye  to  read  tlie  record  of  salvation — without  an  ear  to  hear  its 
gladdening  sounds  from  preacher  or  friend — without  a  memory  to 
recollect  what  you  have  heard  or  known  of  it.  Although  time  for 
reflection  should  be  granted  you,  and  though  the  gate  of  mercy 
should  stand  open  before  you,  yet  your  soul  may  be  so  filled  with 
darkness,  and  unbelief,  and  remorse  that  you  can  not  perceive  the 
■way  of  escape,  and  may  die,  like  Judas,  in  despair. 

Though  quaintly  expressed,  there  is  much  truth  in  the  saying, 
"  True  repentance  is  never  too  late,  but  late  repentance  is  seldom 
true."  How  many  instances  are  there  of  "  repentance"  in  sickness, 
and  in  the  prospect  of  death  being  "  repented  of."  Judicious  persons 
who  have  had  occasion  to  deal  with  the  irreligious  in  such  circum- 
stances, have  a  saddening  report  to  make  of  the  result  of  their  expe- 
rience. How  many  of  them  have  died  as  they  have  lived,  ignorant, 
insensible,  hardened.  Of  those  who  survived,  and  were  delivered 
from  the  terrors  of  death,  how  many  "  returned,  like  the  sow  that 
was  washed,  to  her  wallowing  in  the  mire !"  And  among  those  who 
died  with  the  accents  of  penitence  on  their  lips,  of  how  few  can  they 
speak,  but  in  the  language  of  trembling  hope  ! 

We  often  hear  of  the  contrition  of  condemned  malefactors,  and  it 
is  not  uncommon  to  represent  them  as  having  exhibited  decided 
marks  of  conversion  in  their  cells  and  on  the  scaffold :  but  there  is 
reason  to  think  that  credulity  is  mingled  with  charity  in  these 
reports.  Charity  should  dispose  us  to  form  the  most  favorable  hopes 
of  individuals,  but  when  we  speak  on  this  subject,  and  especially 
when  we  make  our  sentiments  public,  we  should  recollect  that  char- 
ity for  the  dead  may  be  cruelty  to  the  living.  If  such  persons  were 
to  be  pardoned  and  restored  to  life,  we  may  judge  what  would  be 
the  result  with  multitudes  of  them,  from  what  we  see  in  the  case  of 
those  who  have  been  recovered  from  a  dangerous  sickness.  How 
rarely  do  we  meet,  in  such  cases,  with  the  unequivocal  proofs  of  sin- 
cere repentance  which  were  evinced  in  the  crucified  malefactor  I 

Fourtidy.  See  here  a  striking  example  of  the  different  effects  pro- 
duced by  the  preaching  of  Christ  crucified.  To  the  one  malefactor 
the  cross  was  the  savor  of  life  unto  life,  to  the  other  it  was  the  savor 
of  death  unto  death ;  to  the  former  it  was  the  power  of  God  unto 
salvation,  to  the  latter  it  was  a  stumbling-block ;  it  softened  the  heart 
of  the  former,  it  hardened  the  heart  of  the  latter ;  it  23repared  the  one 
for  heaven,  it  rendered  the  other  twofold  more  a  child  of  hell. 
Here  we  perceive  the  exceeding  riches  of  sovereign  grace,  and  the 
desperate  depravity  of  the  human  heart  when  left  to  its  native  ope- 
ration. 


318  THOMAS    M'CRIE. 

O  the  "blindness,  the  infatuation,  tlie  obduracy  of  this  impenitent 
malefactor,  whom  neither  the  reproofs  and  contrition  of  his  com- 
panioD,  nor  the  meekness  and  patience  of  Jesus,  nor  the  acts  of 
clemency  and  grace  which  he  witnessed,  could  soften !  He  saw  the 
rich  treasures  of  grace  opened ;  he  heard  the  humble  petition  of  his 
comrade;  he  heard  the  gracious  return  made  to  it,  granting  him 
more  than  he  had  ventured  to  ask ;  he  was  a  witness  to  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  being  bestowed  on  a  fellow-convict : — and  yet  He 
remained  proud  and  impenitent,  and  would  not  bend  his  mind  to 
ask  what  he  might  have  freely  received.  Yet  this  is  no  strange  or 
uncommon  thing ;  it  is  every  day  verified  in  multitudes  who  enjoy 
the  Gospel. 

Fifthly.  How  mysterious  and  manifold  the  waj^s  by  which  God 
imparts  the  knowledge  of  His  mind  to  men — makes  those  that  are 
blind  to  see,  and  those  that  see,  to  be  blind  I  *        *        ^ 

The  inscription  which  a  heathen  ruler  ordered  to  be  afiixed  to 
the  cross,  and  which  he  refused  to  recall  or  to  modify,  because  the 
instrument  of  savingly  enlightening  an  ignorant  malefactor,  and 
enabling  him  to  silence  and  still  the  increasing  tumult  of  those  who 
maliciously  or  ignorantly  reviled  the  Holy  One  and  the  Just.  0, 
the  depth  of  the  riches,  both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God ! 

Sixthly.  What  a  small  portion  of  truth  will  be  of  saving  benefit 
to  a  person  when  accompanied  by  the  blessing  of  the  Divine  Spirit ! 
Who  teacheth  like  God !  When  the  vision  of  all  is  to  the  learned 
as  a  sealed  book,  and  the  eyes  of  the  prophets  and  their  rulers  and 
seers  are  covered.  He  can  unvail  its  mysteries  to  the  most  ignorant 
and  uninitiated.  By  means  of  a  few  words  He  can  make  the  out- 
casts of  society  wise  to  salvation,  while  those  who  despised  and 
cursed  them  have  "  precept  upon  precept,  line  upon  line,  here  a  lit- 
tle and  there  a  little,"  and  yet  all  the  effect  is  that  they  "fall  back- 
ward, and  are  broken,  and  snared  and  taken."  What  slender  means 
will  prove  successful  when  God  puts  His  hand  to  the  work ! 

What  a  small  portion  of  truth  will  irradiate  the  mind  of  a  sin- 
ner, and  dispel  its  darkness,  when  the  Spirit  of  God  makes  way  for 
it,  and  accompanies  it  home  with  His  secret  and  irresistible  in- 
fluence ! 


DISCOURSE    SIXTY.THIRD. 

THOMAS    CHALMERS,   D.D. 

Dk.  Chal:mees  was  born  at  Anstruthers,  near  St.  Andrews,  in  the 
year  1780.  He  showed  in  early  Hfe  signs  of  great  powers;  and  was 
soundly  educated  in  the  University  of  St.  Andrews,  where  he  won  for 
himself  distinguished  honors  in  Hterature  and  the  physical  sciences. 
At  the  early  age  of  twenty-three  he  was  ordamed ;  his  first  settlement 
being  at  Cavers,  from  which  place  he  removed  to  KUmany.  It  is  well 
known  that  at  the  time  of  his  ordination  he  had  not  experienced  the 
transforming  power  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  He  was  awakened  to  his 
need  of  the  saving  knowledge  of  God,  by  the  mvestigations  which  he 
made  in  the  "  Evidences  of  Christianity,"  in  preparing  an  article  on  that 
subject  for  the  "Edinburg  Encyclopedia;"  and  was  thenceforward  a 
new  man.  In  1815,  Dr.  Chalmers  settled  at  Glasgow;  and  in  1824  he 
became  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  the  University  of  St.  An- 
drews. Four  years  later  he  came  to  the  chair  of  Theology  in  Edinburg 
University.  Chalmers  was  foremost  among  the  founders  of  the  Free 
Church  of  Scotland,  who  went  out  of  the  establishment  in  1843,  to 
secure  for  their  country  the  "  Crown  Rights  of  Jesus  Christ."  He  after- 
ward became  Professor  of  Theology  to  the  seceding  body.  Undimmed 
as  to  his  energies  by  toil  and  age,  he  labored  on  in  the  Master's  cause 
until  the  night  of  the  30th  of  May,  1847  ;  when,  after  his  usual  Sabbath 
duties,  he  retired  to  rest  -with  his  writing  materials  at  his  side,  to  resume 
his  studies  m  the  morning ;  but  died  in  his  bed,  as  is  supposed  of  a  dis- 
ease of  the  heart 

It  is  needless  to  speak  of  Chalmers's  unsurpassed  j^ulpit  ability,  of  the 
exhaustless  wealth  of  his  many  productions  upon  morals,  theology,  and 
reUgion,  and  the  rich  legacy  which  he  has  left  to  the  ministry  and  the 
churches,  in  his  learned  and  eloquent  sermons  and  discourses.  Ample 
justice  is  done  to  these  various  subjects  in  the  admirable  Memoirs  by 
Dr.  Hanna.  Chalmers  is  described  as  havmg  been  of  about  middle  height, 
thick-set  and  brawny,  but  not  corpulent,  with  a  face  rather  broad,  high 
cheek  bones,  pale  and  care-worn,  eyes  of  a  leaden  color,  nose  broad  and 
Hon-like,  mouth  exceedingly  expressive,  and  a  forehead  ample  and  high, 
covered,  in  advanced  Hfe,  with  thin,  straggling  gray  haii". 


320  THOilAS    CHALMERS. 

An  ardent  admirer  of  this  great  divine  lias  given  the  following 
eloquent  and  life-like  picture  of  his  preaching : 

"His  discourses  resemble  mountain  torrents,  dashing  in  strength 
and  beauty,  amid  rocks  and  woods,  carrying  every  thing  before  them, 
and  gathering  force  as  they  leap  and  foam  from  point  to  point  in  their 
progress  to  the  sea.  Calm  and  even  sluggish  in  his  aj^pearance  when  at 
rest,  he  was  on  fire  when  fauiy  roused ;  and  at  times,  raising  himself  up 
in  his  pulj^it,  with  hand  outstretched  and  burnmg  eye,  seemed  as  if  he 
were  mspired,  A  true  Son  of  Thunder,  he  swept  the  minds  of  his  hear- 
ers, as  the  tempest  sweeps  the  ocean,  calhng  forth  its  world  of  waves 
from  their  inmost  depths,  and  fiUing  the  firmament  above  with  its  far- 
resounding  roar.  In  his  family  and  among  his  friends,  he  was  '  gentle 
as  the  dew  from  heaven,'  but  in  the  pulpit,  and  especially  when  defend- 
ing '  the  Covenant  and  Ci'own  Rights  of  Emmanuel,'  he  was  as  a  storm 
amid  the  hills  of  his  native  land.  With  a  majesty  of  thought  and 
vehemence  of  manner  perfectly  irresistible,  he  swept  every  thing  before 
him,  and  left  his  hearers  mth  no  power  but  that  of  admiration  or  sur- 
prise."* 

It  is  a  frequent  remark  that  one  would  not  have  supposed  him  pos- 
sessed of  this  vehemence  of  manner,  judging  by  his  printed  productions. 

The  discourse  which  is  here  given,  has  not  the  boldness  of  expres- 
sion which  characterizes  some  of  Chalmers's  productions ;  but,  in  mark- 
ing it  as  upon  the  whole  his  masterpiece,  we  have  the  concurrent  opmion 
of  some  of  the  best  critics  who  have  pronounced  upon  the  comparative 
merits  of  his  sermons.  He  is  grand  and  terrific  in  his  "  Fury  not  in 
God ;"  but  that  discourse  lacks  the  depth,  transparency,  beauty,  precis- 
ion, and  strength  of  expression  seen  in  the  one  that  follows. 


THE  EXPULSIVE  POWER  OF  A  NEW  AFFECTION. 

"  Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world.     If  any  man  love 
the  world,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him." — 1  John,  ii.  15. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  a  practical  moralist  may  attempt 
to  displace  from  the  human  heart  its  love  of  the  world — either  by 
a  demonstration  of  the  world's  vanity,  so  as  that  the  heart  shall  be 
prevailed  upon  simply  to  withdraw  its  regards  from  an  object  that  is 
not  worthy  of  it;  or,  by  setting  forth  another  object,  even  Cod,  as 
more  worthy  of  its  attachment ;  so  as  that  the  heart  shall  be  pre- 
vailed upon,  not  to  resign  an  old  affection  which  shall  have  nothing 

*  Eev.  R,  Turnbull,  D.D.,  in  "  Tribute  to  Memory  of  Vinet  and  Chalmers." 


THE    EXPULSIVE    POWER    OF    A    NEW    AFFECTION.     321 

to  succeed  it,  but  to  excliange  an  old  affection  for  a  new  one.  My 
purpose  is  to  show,  that  from  tlie  constitution  of  our  nature,  the 
former  method  is  altogether  incompetent  and  ineffectual — and  that 
the  latter  method  will  alone  suf&ce  for  the  rescue  and  recovery  of 
the  heart  from  the  wrong  affection  that  domineers  over  it.  After 
having  accomplished  this  purpose,  I  shall  attempt  a  few  practical 
observations. 

Love  may  be  regarded  in  two  different  conditions.  The  first  is, 
when  its  object  is  at  a  distance,  and  then  it  becomes  love  in  a  state 
of  desire.  The  second  is,  when  its  object  is  in  possession,  and  then 
it  becomes  love  in  a  state  of  indulgence.  Under  the  impulse  of  de- 
sire, man  feels  himself  urged  onward  in  some  j)ath  or  pursuit  of 
activity  for  its  gratification.  The  faculties  of  his  mind  are  put  into 
busy  exercise.  In  the  steady  direction  of  one  great  and  engrossing 
interest,  his  attention  is  recalled  from  the  many  reveries  into  which 
it  might  otherwise  have  wandered ;  and  the  powers  of  his  body  are 
forced  away  from  an  indolence  in  which  it  else  might  have  lan- 
guished ;  and  that  time  is  crowded  with  occupation,  which  but  for 
some  object  of  keen  and  devoted  ambition,  might  have  driveled 
along  in  successive  hours  of  weariness  and  distaste — and  though 
hope  does  not  always  enliven,  and  success  does  not  always  crown 
this  career  of  exertion,  yet  in  the  midst  of  this  very  variety,  and 
with  the  alternations  of  occasional  disappointment,  is  the  machinery 
of  the  whole  man  kept  in  a  sort  of  congenial  play,  and  upholden  in 
that  tone  and  temper  which  are  most  agreeable  to  it.  Insomuch,, 
that  if  through  the  extirpation  of  that  desire  which  forms  the  orig- 
inating principle  of  all  this  movement,  the  machinery  were  to  stop, 
and  to  receive  no  impulse  from  another  desire  substituted  in  its 
place,  the  man  would  be  left  with  all  his  propensities  to  action  in  a 
state  of  most  painful  and  unnatural  abandonment.  A  sensitive 
being  suffers,  and  is  in  violence,  if,  after  having  thoroughly  rested 
from  his  fatigue,  or  been  relieved  from  his  pain,  he  continue  in  pos- 
session of  powers  without  any  excitement  to  these  powers ;  if  he 
possess  a  capacity  of  desire  without  having  an  object  of  desire ;  or 
if  he  have  a  spare  energy  upon  his  person,  without  a  counterpart,, 
and  without  a  stimulus  to  call  it  into  operation.  The  misery  of  such 
a  condition  is  often  realized  by  him  who  is  retired  from  business,  or 
who  is  retired  from  law,  or  who  is  even  retired  from  the  occupations. 
of  the  chase,  and  of  the  gaming-table.  Such  is  the  demand  of  our 
nature  for  an  object  in  pursuit,  that  no  accumulation  of  previous 
success  can  extinguish  it — and  thus  it  is,  that  the  most  prosperous 
merchant,  and  the  most  victorious  general,  and  the  most  fortunate: 

21 


322  THOMAS    CHALMERS. 

gamester,  wlien  the  labor  of  their  respective  vocations  has  come  to 
a  close,  are  often  found  to  languish  in  the  midst  of  all  their  acquisi- 
tions, as  if  out  of  their  kindred  and  rejoicing  element.  It  is  quite 
in  vain  with  such  a  constitutional  appetite  for  employment  in  man, 
to  attempt  cutting  away  from  him  the  spring  or  the  principle  of  one 
employment,  without  providing  him  with  another.  The  whole 
heart  and  habit  will  rise  in  resistance  against  such  an  undertaking. 
The  else  unoccupied  female,  who  spends  the  hours  of  every  evening 
at  some  play  of  hazard,  knows  as  well  as  j^ou,  that  the  pecuniary 
gain,  or  the  honorable  triumph  of  a  successful  contest,  are  altogether 
paltry.  It  is  not  such  a  demonstration  of  vanity  as  this  that  will 
force  her  away  from  her  dear  and  delightful  occupation.  The  habit 
can  not  so  be  displaced,  as  to  leave  nothing  but  a  negative  and  cheer- 
less vacancy  behind  it — though  it  may  so  be  supplanted  as  to  be 
followed  up  by  another  habit  of  employment,  to  which  the  power 
of  some  new  affection  has  constrained  her.  It  is  willingly  sus- 
pended, for  example,  on  any  single  evening,  should  the  time  that  is 
wont  to  be  allotted  to  gaming,  require  to  be  spent  on  the  prepara- 
tions of  an  approaching  assembly. 

The  ascendant  power  of  a  second  affection  will  do,  what  no  ex- 
position, however  forcible,  of  the  folly  and  worthlessness  of  the 
first,  ever  could  effectuate.  And  it  is  the  same  in  the  great  world. 
You  never  will  be  able  to  arrest  any  of  its  leading  pursuits,  by  a 
naked  demonstration  of  their  vanity.  It  is  quite  in  vain  to  think 
of  stopping  one  of  these  pursuits  in  any  way  else,  but  by  stimulat- 
ing to  another.  In  attempting  to  bring  a  worthy  man,  intent  and 
busied  with  the  prosecution  of  his  objects,  to  a  dead  stand,  you  have 
not  merely  to  encounter  the  charm  which  he  annexes  to  these  ob- 
jects— ^but  you  have  to  encounter  the  pleasure  which  he  feels  in  the 
very  prosecution  of  them.  It  is  not  enough,  then,  that  you  dissi- 
pate the  charm,  by  your  moral,  and  eloquent,  and  affecting  expo- 
sure of  its  illusiveness.  You  must  address  to  the  eye  of  his  mind 
another  object,  with  a  charm  powerful  enough  to  dispossess  the  first 
of  its  influence,  and  to  engage  him  in  some  other  prosecution  as  full 
of  interest,  and  hope,  and  congenial  activity,  as  the  former.  It  is 
this  which  stamps  an  impotency  on  all  moral  and  pathetic  declama- 
tion about  the  insignificance  of  the  world.  A  man  will  no  more 
consent  to  the  misery  of  being  without  an  object,  because  that  ob- 
ject is  a  trifle,  or  of  being  without  a  pursuit,  because  that  pursuit 
terminates  in  some  frivolous  or  fugitive  acquirement,  than  he  will 
voluntarily  submit  himself  to  the  torture,  because  that  torture  is  to 
be  of  short  duration.     If  to  be  without  desire  and  without  exertion 


THE    EXPULSIVE    POWER    OP    A    NEW    AFFECTION.     323 

altogether,  is  a  state  of  violence  and  discomfort,  tlien  tlie  present 
desire,  witli  its  correspondent  train  of  exertion,  is  not  to  be  got  rid 
of  simply  by  destroying  it.  It  must  be  by  substituting  another  de- 
sire, and  another  line  or  habit  of  exertion  in  its  place — and  the  most 
effectual  way  of  withdrawing  the  mind  from  one  object,  is  not  by 
turning  it  away  upon  desolate  and  unpeopled  vacancy — but  by  pre- 
senting to  its  regards  another  object  still  more  alluring. 

These  remarks  apply  not  merely  to  love  considered  in  its  state 
of  desire  for  an  object  not  yet  obtained.  They  apply  also  to  love 
considered  in  its  state  of  indulgence,  or  placid  gratification,  with  an 
object  already  in  possession.  It  is  seldom  that  any  of  our  tastes  are 
made  to  disappear  by  a  mere  process  of  natural  extinction.  At 
least,  it  is  very  seldom  that  this  is  done  through  the  instrumentality 
of  reasoning.  It  may  be  done  by  excessive  pampering — but  it  is 
almost  never  done  by  the  mere  force  of  mental  determination.  But 
what  can  not  be  thus  destroyed,  may  be  dispossessed — and  one  taste 
may  be  made  to  give  way  to  another,  and  to  lose  its  power  entirely 
as  the  reigning  affection  of  the  mind.  It  is  thus,  that  the  boy 
ceases,  at  length,  to  be  the  slave  of  his  appetite,  but  it  is  because  a 
manlier  taste  has  now  brought  it  into  subordination — and  that  the 
youth  ceases  to  idolize  pleasure,  but  it  is  because  the  idol  of  wealth 
has  become  the  stronger  and  gotten  the  ascendency — and  that  even 
the  love  of  money  ceases  to  have  the  mastery  over  the  heart  of 
many  a  thriving  citizen,  but  it  is  because  drawn  into  the  whirl  of 
city  politics,  another  affection  has  been  wrought  into  his  moral  sys- 
tem, and  he  is  now  lorded  over  by  the  love  of  power.  There  is  not 
one  of  these  transformations  in  which  the  heart  is  left  without  an 
object.  Its  desire  for  one  particular  object  may  be  conquered ;  but 
as  to  its  desire  for  having  some  one  object  or  other,  this  is  uncon- 
querable. Its  adhesion  to  that  on  which  it  has  fastened  the  prefer- 
ence of  its  regards,  can  not  willingly  be  overcome  by  the  rending 
away  of  a  simple  separation.  It  can  be  done  only  by  the  applica- 
tion of  something  else,  to  which  it  may  feel  the  adhesion  of  a  still 
stronger  and  more  powerful  preference.  Such  is  the  grasping  tend- 
ency of  the  human  heart,  that  it  must  have  a  something  to  lay  hold 
of — and  which,  if  wrested  away  without  the  substitution  of  another 
something  in  its  place,  would  leave  a  void  and  a  vacancy  as  painful 
to  the  mind,  as  hunger  is  to  the  natural  system.  It  may  be  dispos- 
sessed of  one  object,  or  of  any,  but  it  can  not  be  desolated  of  all. 
Let  there  be  a  breathing  and  a  sensitive  heart,  but  without  a  liking 
and  without  affinity  to  any  of  the  things  that  are  around  it,  and  in 
a  state  of  cheerless  abandonment,  it  would  be  alive  to  nothing  but 


324  THOMAS    CHALMERS. 

the  burden  of  its  own  consciousness,  and  feel  it  to  be  intolerable. 
It  would  make  no  difference  to  its  owner,  wlietber  he  dwelt  in  the 
midst  of  a  gaj  and  goodly  world,  or  placed  afar  beyond  the  out- 
skirts of  creation,  he  dwelt  a  solitary  unit  in  dark  and  unpeopled 
nothingness.  The  heart  must  have  something  to  cling  to — and 
never,  by  its  own  voluntary  consent,  will  it  so  denude  itself  of  all 
its  attachments  that  there  shall  not  be  one  remaining  object  that  can 
draw  or  solicit  it. 

The  misery  of  a  heart  thus  bereft  of  all  relish  for  that  which  is 
wont  to  minister  enjoyment,  is  strikingly  exemplified  in  those,  who 
satiated  with  indulgence,  have  been  so  belabored,  as  it  were,  with, 
the  variety  and  the  poignancy  of  the  pleasurable  sensations  that 
they  have  experienced,  that  they  are  at  length  fatigued  out  of  all 
capacity  for  sensation  whatever.  The  disease  of  ennui  is  more  fre- 
quent in  the  French  metropolis,  where  amusement  is  more  exclu- 
sively the  occupation  of  higher  classes,  than  it  is  in  the  British  me- 
tropolis, where  the  longings  of  the  heart  are  more  diversified  by  the 
resources  of  business  and  politics.  There  are  the  votaries  of  fash- 
ion, who,  in  this  way,  have  at  length  become  the  victims  of  fashion- 
able excess — in  whom  the  very  multitude  of  their  enjoyments,  has 
at  last  extinguished  their  power  of  enjoyment — who,  with  the  grati- 
fications of  art  and  nature  at  command,  now  look  upon  all  that  is 
around  them  with  an  eye  of  tastelessness — who,  plied  with  the  de- 
lights of  sense  and  of  splendor  even  to  weariness,  and  incapable  of 
higher  delights,  have  come  to  the  end  of  all  their  perfection,  and 
like  Solomon  of  old,  found  it  to  be  vanity  and  vexation.  The  man 
whose  heart  has  thus  been  turned  into  a  desert,  can  vouch  for  the 
insupportable  languor  which  must  ensue,  when  one  affection  is  thus 
plucked  away  from  the  bosom,  without  another  to  replace  it.  It  is 
not  necessary  that  a  man  receive  pain  from  any  thing,  in  order  to 
become  miserable.  It  is  barely  enough  that  he  looks  with  distaste 
to  every  thing — and  in  that  asylum  which  is  the  repository  of  minds 
out  of  joint,  and  where  the  organ  of  feeling  as  well  as  the  organ  of 
intellect,  has  been  impaired,  it  is  not  in  the  cell  of  loud  and  frantic 
outcries  where  you  will  meet  with  the  acmd  of  mental  suffering. 
But  that  is  the  individual  who  outpeers  in  wretchedness  all  his  fel- 
lows, who  throughout  the  whole  expanse  of  nature  and  society, 
meets  not  an  object  that  has  at  all  the  power  to  detain  or  to  interest 
him  ;  who  neither  in  earth  beneath,  nor  in  heaven  above,  knows  of 
a  single  charm  to  which  his  heart  can  send  forth  one  desirous  or 
responding  movement ;  to  whom  the  world,  in  his  eye  a  vast  and 
empty  desolation,  has  left  him  nothing  but  his  own  consciousness  to 


THE    EXPULSIVE    POWER    OP    A    NEW    AFFECTION.     325 

feed  upon — dead  to  all  that  is  without  him,  and  alive  to  nothino-  but 
to  the  load  of  his  own  torpid  and  useless  existence. 

It  will  now  be  seen,  perhaps,  why  it  is  that  the  heart  keeps  by  its 
present  affections  with  so  much  tenacity — when  the  attempt  is  to  do 
them  away  by  a  mere  process  of  extirpation.  It  will  not  consent  to 
be  so  desolated.  The  strong  man,  whose  dwelling-place  is  there, 
may  be  compelled  to  give  way  to  another  occupier — but  unless 
another  stronger  than  he,  has  power  to  dispossess  and  to  succeed 
him,  he  will  keep  his  present  lodgment  inviolable.  The  heart  would 
revolt  against  its  own  emptiness.  It  could  not  bear  to  be  so  left  in 
a  state  of  waste  and  cheerless  insipidity.  The  moralist  who  tries 
such  a  process  of  dispossession  as  this  upon  the  heart,  is  thwarted  at 
every  step  by  the  recoil  of  its  own  mechanism.  You  have  all  heard 
that  Nature  abhors  a  vacuum.  Such  at  least  is  the  nature  of  the 
heart,  that  though  the  room  which  is  in  it  may  change  one  inmate 
for  another,  it  can  not  be  left  void  without  pain  of  most  intolerable 
suffering.  It  is  not  enough  then  to  argue  the  folly  of  an  existing 
affection.  It  is  not  enough,  in  the  terms  of  a  forcible  or  an  affecting 
demonstration,  to  make  good  the  evanescence  of  its  object.  It  may 
not  even  be  enough  to  associate  the  threats  and  terrors  of  some  com- 
ing vengeance,  with  the  indulgence  of  it.  The  heart  may  still  resist 
the  every  application,  by  obedience  to  which  it  would  finally  be  con- 
ducted to  a  state  so  much  at  war  with  all  its  appetites  as  that  of 
downright  inanition.  So  to  tear  away  an  affection  from  the  heart, 
as  to  leave  it  bare  of  all  its  regards,  and  of  all  its  preferences,  were 
a  hard  and  hopeless  undertaking — and  it  would  appear  as  if  the  alone 
powerful  engine  of  dispossession,  were  to  bring  the  mastery  of 
another  affection  to  bear  upon  it. 

We  know  not  a  more  sweeping  interdict  upon  the  affections  of 
Nature,  than  that  which  is  delivered  by  the  apostle  in  the  verse  be- 
fore us.  To  bid  a  man  into  whom  there  is  not  yet  entered  the  great 
and  ascendant  influence  of  the  principle  of  regeneration,  to  bid  him 
withdraw  his  love  from  all  the  things  that  are  in  the  world,  is  to  bid 
him  give  up  all  the  affections  that  are  in  his  heart.  The  world  is 
the  all  of  a  natural  man.  lie  has  not  a  taste,  nor  a  desire,  that 
points  not  to  a  something  placed  within  the  confines  of  its  visible 
horizon.  He  loves  nothing  above  it,  and  he  cares  for  nothing  be- 
yond it ;  and  to  bid  him  love  not  the  world,  is  to  pass  a  sentence  of 
expulsion  on  all  the  inmates  of  his  bosom.  To  estimate  the  magni- 
tude and  the  difficulty  of  such  a  surrender,  let  us  only  think  that  it 
were  just  as  arduous  to  prevail  on  him  not  to  love  wealth,  which  is 
but  one  of  the  things  in  the  world,  as  to  prevail  on  him  to  set  willful 


326  THOMASCHALMERS. 

fire  to  Lis  own  property.  This  lie  might  do  with  sore  and  painful 
reluctance,  if  he  saw  that  the  salvation  of  his  life  hung  upon  it.  But 
this  he  would  do  willingly  if  he  saw  that  a  new  property  of  tenfold 
value  was  instantly  to  emerge  from  the  wreck  of  the  old  one.  In 
this  case  there  is  something  more  than  the  mere  displacement  of  an 
affection.  There  is  the  overbearing  of  one  affection  by  another. 
But  to  desolate  liis  heart  of  all  love  for  the  things  of  the  world, 
without  the  substitution  of  any  love  in  its  place,  were  to  bim  a  pro- 
cess of  as  unnatural  violence,  as  to  destroy  all  the  things  he  bas  in 
the  world,  and  give  him  nothing  in  their  room.  So  that,  if  to  love 
not  the  world  be  indispensable  to  one's  Christianity,  then  the  cruci- 
fixion of  the  old  man  is  not  too  strong  a  term  to  mark  that  transi- 
tion in  his  history,  when  all  old  things  are  done  away,  and  all  things 
are  become  new. 

We  hope  that  by  this  time,  you  understand  the  impotency  of  a 
mere  demonstration  of  this  world's  insignificance.  Its  sole  practical 
effect,  if  it  had  any,  would  be  to  leave  the  heart  in  a  state  to  wbicb 
every  heart  is  insupportable,  and  that  is  a  mere  state  of  nakedness 
and  negation.  You  may  remember  the  fond  and  unbroken  tenacity 
with  which  your  heart  has  often  recurred  to  pursuits,  over  the  utter 
frivolity  of  which  it  sighed  and  wept  but  yesterday.  The  arithmetic 
of  your  short-lived  days,  may  on  Sabbath  make  the  clearest  impres- 
sion upon  your  understanding — and  from  his  fancied  bed  of  death, 
may  the  preacher  cause  a  voice  to  descend  in  rebuke  and  mockery 
on  all  the  pursuits  of  earthliness — and  as  he  pictures  before  you  the 
fleeting  generations  of  men,  with  the  absorbing  grave,  whither  all 
the  joys  and  interests  of  the  world  hasten  to  their  sure  and  speedy 
oblivion,  may  you,  touched  and  solemnized  by  his  argument,  feel  for 
a  moment  as  if  on  the  eve  of  a  practical  and  permanent  emancipa- 
tion from  the  scene  of  so  much,  vanity.  But  the  morrow  comes,  and 
the  business  of  the  world,  and  the  objects  of  the  world,  and  the 
moving  forces  of  the  world  comes  along  with  it — and  the  machinery 
of  the  heart,  in  virtue  of  which  it  must  have  something  to  grasp,  or 
something  to  adhere  to,  brings  it  under  a  kind  of  moral  necessity  to 
be  actuated  just  as  before — and  in  utter  repulsion  toward  a  state  so 
unkindly  as  that  of  being  frozen  out  both  of  delight  and  of  desire, 
does  it  feel  all  the  warmth  and  the  urgency  of  its  wonted  solicita- 
tions'— nor  in  the  habit  and  history  of  the  whole  man,  can  we  detect 
so  much  as  one  symptom  of  the  new  creature — so  that  the  church, 
instead  of  being  to  him  a  school  of  obedience,  has  been  a  mere  saun- 
tering place  for  the  luxury  of  a  passing  and  theatrical  emotion  ;  and 
tbe  preaching  which  is  mighty  to  compel  the  attendance  of  multi- 


THE    EXPULSIVE    POWER    OF    A    NEW    AFFECTION.     327 

tudes,  wliicb.  is  miglity  to  still  and  solemnize  .the  hearers  into  a  kind 
of  tragic  sensibility,  which  is  mighty  in  the  play  of  variety  and 
vigor  that  it  can  keep  up  around  the  imagination,  is  not  mighty  to 
the  pulling  down  of  strongholds. 

The  love  of  the  world  can  not  be  expunged  by  a  mere  demon- 
stration of  the  world's  worthlessness.  But  may  it  not  be  supplanted 
by  the  love  of  that  which  is  more  worthy  than  itself?  The  heart 
can  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  part  with  the  world,  by  a  simple  act  of 
resignation.  But  may  not  the  heart  be  prevailed  upon  to  admit  into 
its  preference  another,  who  shall  subordinate  the  world,  and  bring  it 
down  from  its  wonted  ascendency  ?  If  the  throne  which  is  placed 
there,  must  have  an  occupier,  and  the  tyrant  that  now  reigns  has  oc- 
cupied it  wrongfully,  he  may  not  leave  a  bosom  which  would  rather 
detain  him,  than  be  left  in  desolation.  But  may  he  not  give  way  to 
the  lawful  sovereign,  appearing  with  every  charm  that  can  secure 
his  willing  admittance,  and  taking  unto  Himself  His  great  power  to 
subdue  the  moral  nature  of  man,  and  to  reign  over  it  ?  In  a  word, 
if  the  way  to  disengage  the  heart  from  the  positive  love  of  one  great 
and  ascendant  object,  is  to  fasten  it  in  positive  love  to  another,  then 
it  is  not  by  exposing  the  worthlessness  of  the  former,  but  by  address- 
ing to  the  mental  eye  the  worth  and  excellence  of  the  latter,  that  all 
old  things  are  to  be  done  away,  and  all  things  are  to  become  new. 

To  obliterate  all  our  present  affections,  by  simply  expunging 
them,  and  so  as  to  leave  the  seat  of  them  unoccupied,  would  be  to 
destroy  the  old  character,  and  to  substitute  no  new  character  in  its 
place.  But  when  they  take  their  departure  upon  the  iugress  of  other 
visitors ;  when  they  resign  their  sway  to  the  power  and  predomi- 
nance of  new  affections  ;  when,  abandoning  the  heart  to  solitude, 
they  merely  give  place  to  a  successor  who  turns  it  into  as  busy  a 
residence  of  desire,  and  interest,  and  expectation  as  before — there  is 
nothing  in  all  this  to  thwart  or  to  overbear  any  of  the  laws  of  our 
sentient  nature — and  we  see  now,  in  fullest  accordance  with  the  me- 
chanism of  the  heart,  a  great  moral  revolution  may  be  made  to  take 
place  upon  it. 

This,  we  trust,  will  explain  the  operation  of  that  charm  which 
accompanies  the  effectual  preaching  of  the  Gospel.  The  love  of  Grod, 
and  the  love  of  the  world,  are  two  affections,  not  merely  in  a  state 
of  rivalship,  but  in  a  state  of  enmity — and  that  so  irreconcilable, 
that  they  can  not  dwell  together  in  the  same  bosom.  We  have  al- 
ready afiirmed  how  impossible  it  were  for  the  heart,  by  any  innate 
elasticity  of  its  own,  to  cast  the  world  away  from  it,  and  thus  reduce 
itself  to  a  wilderness.     The  heart  is  not  so  constituted,  and  the  only 


328  THOMAS    CHALMERS. 

way  to  dispossess  it  of  an  old  affection,  is  by  tlie  expulsive  power  of 
a  new  one.  Notliing  can  exceed  the  magnitude  of  the  required 
change  in  a  man's  character — when  bidden  as  he  is  in  the  'New  Test- 
ament, to  love  not  the  world ;  no,  nor  any  of  the  things  that  are  in 
the  world — ^for  this  so  comprehends  all  that  is  dear  to  him  in  exist- 
ence, as  to  be  equivalent  to  a  command  of  self-annihilation.  But 
the  same  revelation  which  dictates  so  mighty  an  obedience,  places 
within  our  reach  as  mighty  an  instrument  of  obedience.  It  brings 
for  admittance,  to  the  very  door  of  our  heart,  an  affection  which, 
once  seated  upon  its  throne,  will  either  subordinate  every  previous 
inmate,  or  bid  it  away.  Beside  the  world,  it  places  before  the  eye 
of  the  mind,  Him  who  made  the  world,  and  with  this  peculiarity, 
which  is  all  its  own — that  in  the  Gospel  do  we  so  behold  God,  as 
that  we  may  love  God.  It  is  there,  and  there  only,  where  God  stands 
revealed  as  an  object  of  confidence  to  sinners — and  where  our  desire 
after  Him  is  not  chilled  into  apathy,  by  that  barrier  of  human  guilt 
which  intercepts  every  approach  that  is  not  made  to  Him  through 
the  appointed  Mediator.  It  is  the  bringing  in  of  this  better  hope, 
whereby  we  draw  nigh  unto  God — and  to  live  without  hope,  is  to 
live  without  God,  and  if  the  heart  be  without  God,  the  world  will 
then  have  all  the  ascendency.  It  is  God  apprehended  by  the  be- 
liever as  God  in  Christ,  who  alone  can  dispost  it  from  this  ascen- 
dency. It  is  when  He  stands  dismantled  of  the  terrors  which  belong- 
to  Him  as  an  offended  lawgiver,  and  when  we  are  enabled  by  faith, 
which  is  His  own  gift,  to  see  His  glory  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  to  hear  His  beseeching  voice,  as  it  protests  good-will  to  men, 
and  entreats  the  return  of  all  who  will  to  a  full  pardon,  and  a  gra- 
cious acceptance — it  is  then,  that  a  love  paramount  to  the  love  of  the 
world,  and  at  length  expulsive  of  it,  first  arises  in  the  regenerating 
bosom.  It  is  when  released  from  the  spirit  of  bondage,  with  which 
love  can  not  dwell,  and  when  admitted  into  the  number  of  God's 
children,  through  the  faith  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  the  spirit  of  adop- 
tion is  poured  upon  us — it  is  then  that  the  heart,  brought  under  the 
mastery  of  one  great  and  predominant  affection,  is  delivered  from 
the  tyranny  of  its  former  desires,  and  in  the  only  way  in  which  de- 
liverance is  possible.  And  that  faith  which  is  revealed  to  us  from 
heaven,  as  indispensable  to  a  sinner's  justification  in  the  sight  of  God, 
is  also  the  instrument  of  the  greatest  of  all  moral  and  spiritual 
achievements  on  a  nature  dead  to  the  influence,  and  beyond  the  reach 
of  every  other  application. 

Thus  may  we  come  to  perceive  what  it  is  that  makes  the  most  ef- 
fective kind  of  preaching.     It  is  not   enough  to  hold  out  to  the 


THE    EXPULSIVE    POWER    OP    A    NEW    AFFECTION.    329 

■world's  eye  the  mirror  of  its  own  imperfections.  It  is  not  enough. 
to  come  forth  with  a  demonstration,  however  pathetic,  of  the  evanes- 
cent character  of  all  its  enjoyments.  It  is  not  enough  to  travel  the 
walk  of  experience  along  with  you,  and  speak  to  your  own  con- 
science, and  your  own  recollection  of  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart, 
and  the  deceitfulness  of  all  that  the  heart  is  set  upon.  There  is 
many  a  bearer  of  the  Gospel-message,  who  has  not  shrewdness  or 
natural  discernment  enough,  and  who  has  not  power  of  character- 
istic description  enough,  and  who  has  not  the  talent  of  moral  deline- 
ation enough,  to  present  you  with  a  vivid  and  faithful  sketch  of  the 
existing  follies  of  society.  But  that  very  corruption  which  he  has 
not  the  faculty  of  representing  in  its  visible  details,  he  may  practi- 
cally be  the  instrument  of  eradicating  in  its  principle.  Let  him  be 
but  a  faithful  expounder  of  the  Gospel  testimony.  Unable  as  he 
may  be  to  apply  a  descriptive  hand  to  the  character  of  the  present 
world,  let  him  but  report  with  accuracy  the  matter  which  revelation 
has  brought  to  him  from  a  distant  world — unskilled  as  he  is  in  the 
work  of  so  anatomizing  the  heart,  as  with  the  power  of  a  novelist  to 
create  a  graphical  or  impressive  exhibition  of  the  worthlessness  of 
its  many  affections — let  him  only  deal  in  those  mysteries  of  peculiar 
doctrine,  on  which  the  best  of  novelists  have  thrown  the  wantonness 
of  their  derision.  He  may  not  be  able,  with  the  eye  of  shrewd  and 
satirical  observation,  to  expose  to  the  ready  recognition  of  his  hear- 
ers the  desires  of  worldliness — bat  with  the  tidings  of  the  Gospel  in 
commission,  he  may  wield  the  only  engine  that  can  extirpate  them. 
He  can  not  do  what  some  have  done,  when,  as  if  by  the  hand  of  a 
magician,  they  have  brought  out  to  view,  from  the  hidden  recesses 
of  our  nature,  the  foibles  and  lurking  appetites  which  belong  to  it. 
But  he  has  a  truth  in  his  possession,  which  into  whatever  heart  it 
enters,  will,  like  the  rod  of  Aaron  swallow  up  them  all ;  and  un- 
qualified as  he  may  be,  to  describe  the  old  man  in  all  the  nicer  shad- 
ing of  his  natural  and  constitutional  varieties,  with  him  is  deposited 
that  ascendant  influence  under  which  the  leading  tastes  and  tend- 
encies of  the  old  man  are  destroyed,  and  he  becomes  a  new  creature 
in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

Let  us  not  cease,  then,  to  ply  the  only  instrument  of  powerful 
and  positive  operation,  to  do  away  from  you  the  love  of  the  world. 
Let  us  try  every  legitimate  method  of  finding  access  to  your  hearts 
for  the  love  of  Him  who  is  greater  than  the  world.  For  this  pur- 
pose, let  us,  if  possible,  clear  away  that  shroud  of  unbelief  which  so 
hides  and  darkens  the  face  of  the  Deity.  Let  us  insist  on  his  claims 
to  your  aflection — and  whether  in  the  shape  of  gratitude,  or  in  the 


330  THOMAS    CHALMERS. 

sliape  of  esteem,  let  us  never  cease  to  affirm,  that  in  tlie  whole  of  that 
wondrous  economy,  the  purpose  of  which  is  to  reclaim  a  sinful  world 
unto  Himself — He,  the  God  of  love,  so  sets  Himself  forth  in  charac- 
ters of  endearment,  that  naught  but  faith,  and  naught  but  under- 
standing, are  wanting,  on  your  part,  to  call  forth  the  love  of  your 
hearts  back  again. 

And  here  let  me  advert  to  the  incredulity  of  a  worldly  man ; 
when  he  brings  his  own  sound  and  secular  experience  to  bear  upon 
the  high  doctrines  of  Christianity — when  he  looks  on  regeneration 
as  a  thing  impossible — when  feeling  as  he  does,  the  obstinacies  of  his 
own  heart  on  the  side  of  things  present,  and  casting  an  intelligent 
eye,  much  exercised  perhaps  in  the  observation  of  human  life,  on  the 
equal  obstinacies  of  all  who  are  around  him,  he  pronounces  this 
whole  matter  about  the  crucifixion  of  the  old  man,  and  the  resurrec- 
tion of  a  new  man  in  his  place,  to  be  in  downright  opposition  to  all 
that  is  known  and  witnessed  of  the  real  nature  of  humanity.  We 
think  that  we  have  seen  such  men,  who,  firmly  trenched  in  their  own 
vigorous  and  home-bred  sagacity,  and  shrewdly  regardful  of  all  that 
]3asses  before  them  through  the  week,  and  upon  the  scenes  of  ordi- 
nary business,  look  on  that  transition  of  the  heart  by  which  it  grad- 
ually dies  unto  time,  and  awakens  in  all  the  life  of  a  new-felt  and 
ever-growing  desire  toward  God,  as  a  mere  Sabbath  speculation  ;  and 
who  thus,  with  all  their  attention  engrossed  upon  the  concerns  of 
earthliness,  continue  unmoved,  to  the  end  of  their  days,  among  the 
feelings,  and  the  appetites,  and  the  pursuits  of  earthliness.  If  the 
thought  of  death,  and  another  state  of  being  after  it,  comes  across 
them  at  all,  it  is  not  with  a  chang:e  so  radical  as  that  of  being  born 
again,  that  they  ever  connect  the  idea  of  preparation.  They  have 
some  vague  conception  of  its  being  quite  enough  that  they  acquit 
themselves  in  some  decent  and  tolerable  way  of  their  relative  obliga- 
tions ;  and  that,  upon  the  strength  of  some  such  social  and  domestic 
moralities  as  are  often  realized  by  him  in  whose  heart  the  love  of 
God  has  never  entered,  they  will  be  transplanted  in  safety  from  this 
world,  where  God  is  the  Being  with  whom  it  may  almost  be  said, 
that  they  have  had  nothing  to  do,  to  that  world  where  God  is  the 
Being  with  whom  they  will  have  mainly  and  immediately  to  do 
throughout  all  eternity.  They  admit  all  that  is  said  of  the  utter 
vanity  of  time,  when  taken  up  with  as  a  resting-place.  But  they  re- 
sist every  application  made  upon  the  heart  of  man,  with  the  view  of 
so  shifting  its  tendencies,  that  it  shall  not  henceforth  find  in  the  in- 
terests of  time,  all  its  rest  and  all  its  refreshment.  They,  in  fact, 
regard  such  an  attempt  as  an  enterprise  that  is  altogether  aerial — and 


THE    EXPULSIVE    POWER    OP    A    NEW    AFPECTION.     331 

with  a  tone  of  secular  wisdom,  caught  from  the  famiharities  of  every- 
day experience,  do  they  see  a  visionary  character  in  all  that  is  said 
of  setting  our  aflfections  on  the  things  that  are  above  ;  and  of  walk- 
ing by  faith ;  and  of  keeping  our  hearts  in  such  a  love  of  God  as 
shall  shut  out  from  them  the  love  of  the  world  ;  and  of  having  no 
confidence  in  the  flesh  ;  and  of  so  renouncing  earthly  things  as  to 
have  our  conversation  in  heaven. 

Now,  it  is  altogether  worthy  of  being  remarked  of  those  men 
who  thus  disrelish  spiritual  Christianity,  and,  in  fact,  deem  it  an  im- 
practicable acquirement,  how  much  of  a  piece  their  incredulity 
about  the  demands  of  Christianity,  and  their  incredulity  about  the 
doctrines  of  Christianity,  are  with  one  another.  No  wonder  that 
they  feel  the  work  of  the  New  Testament  to  be  beyond  their 
strength,  so  long  as  they  hold  the  words  of  the  New  Testament  to 
be  beneath  their  attention.  Neither  they  nor  any  one  else  can  dispos- 
sess the  heart  of  an  old  affection,  but  by  the  impulsive  power  of  a 
new  one — and,  if  that  new  affection  be  the  love  of  God,  neither  they 
nor  any  one  else  can  be  made  to  entertain  it,  but  on  such  a  repre- 
sentation of  the  Deity,  as  shall  draw  the  heart  of  the  sinner  toward 
Him.  Now  it  is  just  their  belief  which  screens  from  the  discern- 
ment of  their  minds  this  representation.  They  do  not  see  the  love 
of  God  in  sending  His  Son  into  the  world.  They  do  not  see  the  ex- 
pression of  His  tenderness  to  men,  in  sparing  Him  not,  but  giving 
Him  up  unto  the  death  for  us  all.  They  do  not  see  the  sufficiency 
of  the  atonement,  or  of  the  suffsrings  that  were  endured  by  Him  who 
bore  the  burden  that  sinners  should  have  borne.  They  do  not  see 
the  blended  holiness  and  compassion  of  the  Godhead,  in  that  He 
passed  by  the  transgressions  of  His  creatures,  yet  could  not  pass 
them  by  without  an  expiation.  It  is  a  mystery  to  them,  how  a  man 
should  pass  to  the  state  of  godliness  from  a  state  of  nature — but  had 
they  only  a  believing  view  of  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  this  would 
resolve  for  them  the  whole  mystery  of  godliness.  As  it  is  they  can 
not  get  quit  of  their  old  aflfections,  because  they  are  out  of  sight 
from  all  those  truths  which  have  influence  to  raise  a  new  one. 
They  are  like  the  children  of  Israel  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  when  re- 
quired to  make  bricks  without  straw — they  can  not  love  God,  while 
they  want  the  only  food  which  can  aliment  this  affection  in  a  sin- 
ner's bosom — and  however  great  their  errors  maybe  both  in  resisting 
the  demands  of  the  Gospel  as  impracticable,  and  in  rejecting  the 
doctrines  of  the  Gospel  as  inadmissible,  yet  there  is  not  a  spiritual 
man  (and  it  is  the  prerogative  of  him  who  is  spiritual  to  judge  all 
men)  who  will  not  perceive  that  there  is  a  consistency  in  these  errors. 


332  THOMAS    CHALMERS. 

But  if  there  be  a  consistency  in  the  errors,  in  like  manner  is  there 
a  consistency  in  the  truths  which  are  opposite  to  them.  The  man 
who  believes  in  the  peculiar  doctrines,  will  readily  bow  to  the  pecu- 
liar demands  of  Christianity.  When  he  is  told  to  love  God  su- 
premely, this  may  startle  another,  but  it  will  not  startle  him  to  whom 
God  has  been  revealed  in  peace,  and  in  pardon,  and  in  all  the  free- 
ness  of  an  offered  reconciliation.  When  told  to  shut  out  the  world 
from  his  heart,  this  may  be  impossible  with  him  who  has  nothing  to 
replace  it — but  not  impossible  with  him,  who  has  found  in  God  a 
sure  and  a  satisfying  portion.  When  told  to  withdraw  his  affections 
firom  the  things  that  are  beneath,  this  were  laying  an  order  of  self- 
extinction  upon  the  man,  who  knows  not  another  quarter  in  the 
whole  sphere  of  his  contemplation,  to  which  he  could  transfer  them 
— but  it  were  not  grievous  to  him  whose  view  had  been  opened  to 
the  loveliness  and  glory  of  the  things  that  are  above,  and  can  there 
find,  for  every  feeling  of  his  soul,  a  most  amj^le  and  delighted  occu- 
pation. When  told  to  look  not  to  the  things  that  are  seen  and  tem- 
poral, this  were  blotting  out  the  light  of  all  that  is  visible  from  the 
prospect  of  him  in  whose  eye  there  is  a  wall  of  partition  between 
guilty  nature  and  the  joys  of  eternity — but  he  who  believes  that 
Christ  has  broken  down  this  wall,  finds  a  gathering  radiance  upon 
his  soul,  as  he  looks  onward  in  faith  to  the  things  that  are  unseen 
and  eternal.  Tell  a  man  to  be  holy — and  how  can  he  compass  such 
a  performance,  when  his  alone  fellowship  with  holiness  is  a  fellow- 
ship of  despair  ?  It  is  the  atonement  of  the  cross  reconciling  the 
holiness  of  the  lawgiver  with  the  safety  of  the  offender,  that  hath 
opened  the  way  for  a  sanctifying  influence  into  the  sinner's  heart, 
and  he  can  take  a  kindred  impression  from  the  character  of  God  now 
brought  nigh,  and  now  at  peace  with  him.  Separate  the  demand 
from  the  doctrine,  and  j^ou  have  either  a  system  of  righteousness 
that  is  impracticable,  or  a  barren  orthodoxy.  Bring  the  demand  and 
the  doctrine  together,  and  the  true  disciple  of  Christ  is  able  to  do 
the  one,  through  the  other  strengthening  him.  The  motive  is  ade- 
quate to  the  movement;  and  the  bidden  obedience  to  the  Gospel  is 
not  beyond  the  measure  of  his  strength,  just  because  the  doctrine  of 
the  Gospel  is  not  beyond  the  measure  of  his  acceptance.  The  shield 
of  faith,  and  the  hope  of  salvation,  and  the  Word  of  God,  and  the 
girdle  of  truth — these  are  the  armor  that  he  has  put  on  ;  and  with 
these  the  battle  is  won,  and  the  eminence  is  reached,  and  the  man 
stands  on  the  vantage  ground  of  a  new  field  and  a  new  prospect. 
The  effect  is  great,  but  the  cause  is  equal  to  it — and  stupendous  as 
this  moral  resurrection  to  the  precepts  of  Christianity,  undoubtedly 


THE    EXPULSIVE    POWER    OF    A    NEW    AFFECTION.     333 

is,  there  is  an  element  of  strength  enough  to  give  it  being  and  con- 
tinuance in  the  principles  of  Christianity. 

The  object  of  the  Gospel  is  both  to  pacify  the  sinner's  conscience, 
and  to  purify  his  heart ;  and  it  is  of  importance  to  observe,  that  what 
mars  the  one  of  these  objects,  mars  the  other  also.  The  best  way  of 
casting  out  an  impure  affection,  is  to  admit  a  pure  one ;  and  by  the 
love  of  what  is  good,  to  expel  the  love  of  what  is  evil.  Thus  it  is, 
that  the  freer  the  Gospel,  the  more  sanctifying  is  the  Gospel ;  and 
the  more  it  is  received  as  a  doctrine  of  grace,  the  more  will  it  be  felt 
as  a  doctrine  according  to  godliness.  This  is  one  of  the  secrets  of 
the  Christian  life,  that  the  more  a  man  holds  of  God  as  a  pensioner, 
the  greater  is  the  payment  of  service  that  He  renders  back  again. 
On  the  tenure  of  "  Do  this  and  live,"  a  spirit  of  fearfulness  is  sure  to 
enter  ;  and  the  jealousies  of  a  legal  bargain  chase  away  all  confidence 
from  the  intercourse  between  God  and  man ;  and  the  creature  striv- 
ing to  be  square  and  even  with  his  Creator,  is  in  fact,  pursuing  all 
the  while  his  own  selfishness  instead  of  God's  glory ;  and  with  all  the 
conformities  which  he  labors  to  accomplish,  the  soul  of  obedience  is 
not  there,  the  mind  is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  God,  nor  indeed 
under  such  an  economy  ever  can  be.  It  is  only  when,  as  in  the 
Gospel,  accej^tance  is  bestowed  as  a  present,  without  money  and 
without  price,  that  the  security  which  man  feels  in  God  is  placed  be- 
yond the  reach  of  disturbance — or  that  he  can  repose  in  Him  as  one 
friend  reposes  in  another — or  that  any  liberal  and  generous  under- 
standing can  be  established  betwixt  them — the  one  party  rejoicing 
over  the  other  to  do  him  good — the  other  finding  that  the  truest 
gladness  of  his  heart  lies  in  the  impulse  of  a  gratitude  by  which  it  is 
awakened  to  the  charms  of  a  new  moral  existence.  Salvation  by 
grace — salvation  by  free  grace — salvation  not  of  works,  but  accord- 
ing to  the  mercy  of  God — salvation  on  such  a  footing  is  not  more 
indispensable  to  the  deliverance  of  our  persons  from  the  hand  of 
justice,  than  it  is  to  the  deliverance  of  our  hearts  from  the  chill  and 
the  weight  of  ungodliness.  Retain  a  single  shred  or  fragment  of 
legality  with  the  Gospel,  and  you  raise  a  topic  of  distrust  between 
man  and  God,  You  take  away  from  the  power  of  the  Gospel  to  melt 
and  to  conciliate.  For  this  purpose  the  freer  it  is  the  better  it  is. 
That  very  peculiarity  which  so  many  dread  as  the  germ  of  Antino- 
mianism,  is,  in  fact,  the  germ  of  a  new  spirit  and  a  new  inclination 
against  it.  Along  with  the  light  of  a  free  Gospel  does  there  enter 
the  love  of  the  Gospel,  which,  in  proportion  as  you  impair  the  free- 
ness,  you  are  sure  to  chase  away.  And  never  does  the  sinner  find 
within  himself  so  mighty  a  moral  transformation,  as  when  under  the 


334  THOMAS    CHALMERS. 

belief  that  he  is  saved  by  grace,  lie  feels  constrained  thereby  to  offer 
his  heart  a  devoted  thing,  and  to  deny  ungodliness. 

To  do  any  work  in  the  best  manner,  you  would  make  use  of  the 
fittest  tools  for  it.  And  we  trust  that  what  has  been  said  may  serve 
in  some  degree  for  the  practical  guidance  of  those  who  would  like  to 
reach  the  great  moral  achievement  of  our  text,  but  feel  that  the  tend- 
encies and  desires  of  nature  are  too  strong  for  them.  We  know  of 
no  other  way  by  which  to  keep  the  love  of  the  world  out  of  our  heart 
than  to  keep  in  our  hearts  the  love  of  God — and  no  other  way  by 
which  to  keep  our  hearts  in  the  love  of  God,  than  by  building  our- 
selves on  our  most  holy  faith.  That  denial  of  the  world  which  is 
not  possible  to  him  that  dissents  from  the  Gospel  testimony,  is  possi- 
ble, even  as  all  things  are  possible  to  him  that  believeth.  To  try 
this  without  faith,  is  to  work  without  the  right  tool  or  the  right  in- 
strument. But  faith  worketh  by  love ;  and  the  way  of  expelling  from 
the  heart  the  love  that  transgresseth  the  law,  is  to  admit  into  its  re- 
ceptacles the  love  which  fulfilleth  the  law. 

Conceive  a  man  to  be  standing  on  the  margin  of  this  green  world, 
and  that,  when  he  looked  toward  it,  he  saw  abundance  smiling  upon 
every  field,  and  all  the  blessings  which  earth  can  afford,  scattered  in 
profusion  throughout  every  family,  and  the  light  of  the  sun  sweetly 
resting  upon  all  the  pleasant  habitations,  and  the  joys  of  human  com- 
panionship brightening  many  a  happy  circle  of  society — conceive 
this  to  be  the  general  character  of  the  scene  upon  one  side  of  his 
contemplation,  and  that  on  the  other,  beyond  the  verge  of  the  goodly 
planet  on  which  he  was  situated,  he  could  descry  nothing  but  a  dark 
and  fathomless  unknown.  Think  you  that  he  would  bid  a  voluntary 
adieu  to  all  the  brightness  and  all  the  beauty  that  were  before  him 
upon  earth,  and  commit  himself  to  the  frightful  solitude  away  from 
it  ?  "Would  he  leave  its  peopled  dwelling-places,  and  become  a  soli- 
tary wanderer  through  the  fields  of  nonentity  ?  If  space  offered  him 
nothing  but  a  wilderness,  would  he  for  it  abandon  the  home-bred  scenes 
of  life  and  of  cheerfulness  that  lay  so  near,  and  exerted  such  a  power 
of  urgency  to  detain  him  ?  Would  not  he  cling  to  the  regions  of 
sense,  and  of  life,  and  of  society  ? — and  shrinking  away  from  the  des- 
olation that  was  beyond  it,  would  not  he  be  glad  to  keep  his  firm 
footing  on  the  territory  of  this  world,  and  to  take  shelter  under  the 
silver  canopy  that  was  stretched  over  it  ? 

But  if,  during  the  time  of  his  contemplation,  some  happy  island 
of  the  blest  had  floated  by,  and  there  had  burst  upon  his  senses  the 
light  of  its  surpassing  glories,  and  its  sounds  of  sweeter  melody,  and 
he  clearly  saw  that  there  a  purer  beauty  rested  upon  every  field,  and 


THE    EXPULSIVE    POWER    OF    A    NEW    AFFECTIOISr.     335 

a  more  heartfelt  joy  spread  itself  among  all  the  families,  and  he  could 
discern  there  a  peace,  and  a  piety,  and  a  benevolence  which  put  a 
moral  gladness  into  every  bosom,  and  united  the  whole  society  in 
one  rejoicing  sympathy  with  each  other,  and  with  the  beneficent 
Father  of  them  all.  Could  he  further  see  that  pain  and  mortal- 
ity were  there  unknown,  and  above  all,  that  signals  of  welcome 
were  hung  out,  and  an  avenue  of  communication  was  made  for  him 
— perceive  you  not  that  what  was  before  the  wilderness,  would  be- 
come the  land  of  invitation,  and  that  now  the  world  would  be  the 
wilderness  ?  "What  unpeopled  space  could  not  do,  can  be  done  by 
space  teeming  with  beatific  scenes,  and  beatiiic  society.  And  let  the 
existing  tendencies  of  the  heart  be  what  they  may  to  the  scene  that 
is  near  and  visible  around  us,  still  if  another  stood  revealed  to  the 
prospect  of  man,  either  through  the  channel  of  faith,  or  through  the 
channel  of  his  senses — then,  without  violence  done  to  the  constitution 
of  his  moral  nature,  may  he  die  unto  the  present  world,  and  live  to 
the  lovelier  world  that  stands  in  the  distance  away  from  it. 


DISCOURSE  SIXTY-FOURTH. 

EDWARD     IRVING,     M.A. 

Iryikg  was  born  at  Annan,  in  1792,  and  completed  his  studies  at  the 
University  of  Edinburg.  After  having  sj^ent  several  years  in  teaching, 
he  determined  on  the  ministry  as  a  profession.  Dr.  Chalmers,  on  hear- 
ing him  preach,  was  so  nnpressed  with  his  abilities  that  he  appointed  him 
his  assistant  at  St.  John's  Church,  Glasgow.  In  1823  he  was  appointed 
preacher  at  Caledonian  Asylum,  in  Cross-street,  Hatton  Garden,  Lon- 
don ;  where  such  crowds  flocked  to  hear  him  as  to  render  it  necessary 
to  procure  tickets  of  admission,  even  for  "  standing  room."  Becoming 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Drumraond,  he  joined  "the  prophets,"  as  they  were 
called;  for  which,  in  1830,  he  was  charged  with  "heresy,"  by  the  Scotch 
Church  in  London,  and  finally  deposed  by  the  Presbytery  to  which  he 
was  attached.  He  contmued  to  preach,  however,  imtil  the  time  of  his 
death,  in  1834.  He  died  rej^eating  the  twenty-third  Psalm  in  the  orig- 
inal Hebrew.  A  sect  sprung  up  about  the  tune  of  his  death,  called  Ir- 
vingites. 

This  remarkable  man,  who  thus  went  down  to  his  grave  under  a 
cloud,  has  been  pronounced  the  most  eloquent  man  of  our  century.  As 
an  orator  he  has  been  compared  to  Demosthenes,  Luther,  and  Paul; 
and  as  a  poet,  to  Milton,  Such  men  as  McLitosh,  Canning,  Brougham, 
and  Coleridge,  have  rendered  admiring  homage  to  his  genius.  It  was 
a  most  remarkable  combination  of  powers,  physical,  moral,  and  mental, 
that  won  his  unprecedented  popularity.  Irving  has  left  a  discourse  on 
"  Missions,"  "  Babylon  and  Infidelity  Foredoomed  of  God,"  and  some 
other  works.  His  "  Orations  on  tlie  Oracles  of  God,^^.  are  among  his 
chief  productions,  and  have  a  world-wide  reputation.  The  Jirst  of 
these  (that  which  we  have  selected)  has  been  most  admired.  There 
are  passages  in  it  of  almost  vmrivaled  beauty  and  sublimity. 


PEEPARATION  FOE  CONSULTING  THE  OKACLES 

OF  GOD, 

"  Search  the  Scriptures." — Johx,  v.  39, 

There  was  a  time  when  each  revelation  of  the  word  of  God  had 
an  introduction   into  this  earth,  which  neither  permitted  men  to 


PREPARATION    FOR    CONSULTING    GOD'S    ORACLES.     337 

doubt  -vvlience  it  came,  nor  wherefore  it  was  sent.  If  at  the  giving 
of  eacli  several  truth  a  star  was  not  lighted  up  in  heaven,  as  at  the 
birth  of  the  Prince  of  Truth,  there  was  done  upon  the  earth  a  won- 
der, to  make  her  children  listen  to  the  message  of  their  Maker. 
The  Almighty  made  bare  His  arm ;  and,  through  mighty  acts  shown 
by  His  holy  servants,  gave  demonstration  of  His  truth,  and  found 
for  it  a  sure  place  among  the  other  matters  of  human  knowledge 
and  belief. 

But  now  the  miracles  of  God  have  ceased,  and  nature,  secure 
and  unmolested,  is  no  longer  called  on  for  testimonies  to  her  Crea- 
tor's voice.  No  burning  bush  draws  the  footsteps  to  His  presence- 
chamber  ;  no  invisible  voice  holds  the  ear  awake  ;  no  hand  cometh 
forth  from  the  obscurity  to  write  His  purposes  in  letters  of  flame. 
The  vision  is  shut  up,  and  the  testimony  is  sealed,  and  the  word  of 
the  Lord  is  ended,  and  this  solitary  Volume,  with  its  chapters  and 
verses,  is  the  sum  total  of  all  for  which  the  chariot  of  heaven  made 
so  many  visits  to  the  earth,  and  the  Son  of  God  Himself  taber- 
nacled and  dwelt  among  us. 

The  truth  which  it  contains  once  dwelt  undivulged  in  the  bosom 
of  God ;  and,  on  coming  forth  to  take  its  place  among  things  re- 
vealed, the  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  nature,  through  all  her  cham- 
bers, gave  it  reverent  welcome.  Beyond  what  it  contains,  the  mys- 
teries of  the  future  are  unknown.  *To  gain  it  acceptation  and 
currency,  the  noble  company  of  martyrs  testified  unto  the  death. 
The  general  assembly  of  the  first-born  in  heaven  made  it  the  day- 
star  of  their  hopes,  and  the  pavilion  of  their  peace.  Its  every  sen- 
tence is  charmed  with  the  power  of  God,  and  powerful  to  the  ever- 
lasting salvation  of  souls. 

Having  our  minds  filled  with  these  thoughts  of  the  primeval 
divinity  of  revealed  Wisdom  when  she  dwelt  in  the  bosom  of  God, 
and  was  of  His  eternal  Self  a  part,  long  before  He  prepared  the 
heavens,  or  set  a  compass  upon  the  face  of  the  deep ;  revolving  also, 
how,  by  the  space  of  four  thousand  years,  every  faculty  of  mute 
Nature  did  solemn  obeisance  to  this  daughter  of  the  divine  mind, 
whenever  He  pleased  to  commission  her  forth  to  the  help  of  mor- 
tals ;  and  further  meditating  upon  the  delights  which  she  had  of 
old  with  the  sons  of  men,  the  height  of  heavenly  temper  to  which 
she  raised  them  and  the  offspring  of  magnanimous  deeds  which  these 
two — the  wisdom  of  God,  and  the  soul  of  man — did  engender  be- 
tween themselves — meditating,  I  say,  upon  these  mighty  topics,  our 
soul  is  smitten  with  grief  and  shame  to  remark  how  in  this  latter 
day,  she  hath  fallen  from  her  high  estate ;  and  fallen  along  with  her 

22 


338  EDWAED    IRVING. 

the  great  and  noble  cliaracter  of  men.  Or  if  tliere  be  still  a  few- 
names,  as  of  the  missionary  martyr,  to  emulate  the  saints  of  old — 
how  to  the  commonalty  of  Christians  her  oracles  have  fallen  into  a 
household  commonness,  and  her  visits  into  a  cheap  famiharity ;  while 
by  the  multitude  she  is  mistaken  for  a  minister  of  terror  sent  to  op- 
press poor  mortals  with  moping  melancholy,  and  inflict  a  wound 
upon  the  happiness  of  human  kind. 

For  there  is  now  no  express  stirring  up  the  faculties  to  meditate 
her  high  and  heavenly  strains — there  is  no  formal  sequestration  of  the 
mind  from  all  other  concerns,  on  purpose  for  her  special  entertain- 
ment— there  is  no  house  of  solemn  seeking  and  solemn  waiting  for 
a  spiritual  frame,  before  entering  and  listening  to  the  voice  of  the 
Almighty's  wisdom.  Who  feels  the  sublime  dignity  there  is  in  a  say- 
ing, fresh  descended  from  the  porch  of  heaven  ?  Who  feels  the 
awful  weight  there  is  in  the  least  iota  that  hath  dropped  from  the  lips 
of  God  ?  Who  feels  the  thrilling  fear  of  trembling  hope  there  is  in 
words  whereon  the  destinies  of  himself  do  hang?  Who  feels  the 
swelling  tide  of  gratitude  within  his  breast,  for  redemption  and  sal- 
vation coming,  instead  of  flat  despair  and  everlasting  retribution  ? 
Finally,  who,  in  perusing  the  word  of  God,  is  captivated  through 
all  His  faculties,  and  transported  through  all  His  emotions,  and 
through  all  His  energies  of  action  wound  up  ?  Why,  to  say  the 
best,  it  is  done  as  other  duties  are  wont  to  be  done ;  and,  having 
reached  the  rank  of  a  daily,  formal  duty,  the  perusal  of  the  Word 
hath  reached  its  noblest  place.  Yea,  that  which  is  the  guide  and 
spur  of  aU  duty,  the  necessary  aliment  of  Christian  life,  the  first 
and  the  last  of  Christian  knowledge,  and  Christian  feeling  hath,  to 
speak  the  best,  degenerated  in  these  days  to  stand  rank  and  file, 
among  those  duties  whereof  it  is  parent,  preserver,  and  commander. 
And,  to  speak  not  the  best,  but  the  fair  and  common  truth,  this 
Book,  the  offspring  of  the  Divine  mind,  and  the  perfection  of  heav- 
enly wisdom,  is  permitted  to  lie  from  day  to  day,  perhaps  from 
week  to  week,  unheeded  and  unperused,  never  welcome  to  our 
happy,  healthy,  and  energetic  moods ;  admitted,  if  admitted  at  all, 
in  seasons  of  sickness,  feeble-mindedness,  and  disabling  sorrow. 
Yea,  that  which  was  sent  to  be  a  spirit  of  ceaseless  joy  and  hope 
within  the  heart  of  man,  is  treated  as  the  enemy  of  happiness,  and 
the  murderer  of  enj  oy ment ;  and  eyed  askance,  as  the  remem- 
brancer of  death,  and  the  very  messenger  of  hell. 

Oh !  if  books  had  but  tongues  to  speak  their  wrongs,  then  might 
this  Book  well  exclaim — Hear,  0  heavens !  and  give  ear,  0  earth ! 
I  came  from  the  love  and  embrace  of  God,  and  mute  Nature,  to 


PREPARATION    FOR    COJTSULTING    GOD'S    ORACLES.     339 

wliom  I  brouglit  no  boon,  did  me  rightful  homage.  To  men  I  come 
and  my  words  were  to  the  children  of  men.  I  disclosed  to  you 
the  mysteries  of  hereafter,  and  the  secrets  of  the  throne  of  God.  I 
set  open  to  you  the  gates  of  salvation,  and  the  way  of  eternal  life, 
hitherto  unknown.  Nothing  in  heaven  did  I  withhold  from  your 
hope  and  ambition ;  and  upon  your  earthly  lot  I  poured  the  full 
horn  of  Divine  providence  and  consolation.  But  ye  requited  me 
with  no  welcome,  ye  held  no  festivity  on  my  arrival :  ye  sequester 
me  from  happiness  and  heroism,  closeting  me  with  sickness  and 
infirmity :  ye  make  not  of  me,  nor  use  me  for,  your  guide  to  wis- 
dom and  prudence,  put  me  into  a  place  in  your  last  of  duties,  and 
withdraw  me  to  a  mere  corner  of  your  time ;  and  most  of  ye  set 
me  at  naught  and  utterly  disregard  me.  I  come,  the  fullness  of  the 
knowledge  of  God ;  angels  delighted  in  my  company,  and  desired 
to  dive  into  my  secrets.  But  ye,  mortals,  place  masters  over  me, 
subjecting  me  to  the  discipline  and  dogmatism  of  men,  and  tutoring 
me  in  your  schools  of  learning.  I  came,  not  to  be  silent  in  your 
dwellings,  but  to  speak  welfare  to  you  and  to  your  children.  I 
came  to  rule,  and  my  throne  to  set  up  in  the  hearts  of  men.  Mine 
ancient  residence  was  the  bosom  of  God ;  no  residence  will  I  have 
but  the  soul  of  an  immortal ;  and  if  you  had  entertained  me,  I 
should  have  possessed  you  of  the  peace  which  I  had  with  God, 
"  whe-n  I  was  with  Him  and  was  daily  His  delight,  rejoicing  always 
before  Him.  Because  I  have  called  you  and  ye  have  refused,  I  have 
stretched  out  my  hand  and  no  man  regarded ;  but  ye  have  set  at 
naught  all  my  counsel,  and  would  none  of  my  reproof;  I  also 
will  laugh  at  your  calamity,  and  mock  when  your  fear  cometh  as 
desolation,  and  your  destruction  cometh  as  a  whirlwind,  when  dis- 
tress and  anguish  cometh  upon  you.  Then  shall  they  cry  upon  me, 
but  I  will  not  answer ;  they  shall  seek  me  early,  but  they  shall  not 
find  me." 

From  this  cheap  estimation  and  wanton  neglect  of  God's  coun- 
sel, and  from  the  terror  of  this  curse  consequent  thereon,  we  have 
resolved,  in  the  strength  of  God,  to  do  our  endeavor  to  deliver  this 
congregation  of  His  intelligent  and  worshiping  people — an  endeavor 
which  we  make  with  a  full  reception  of  the  difficulties  to  be  over- 
come on  every  side,  within  no  less  than  without  the  sacred  pale ; 
and  upon  which  we  enter  with  the  utmost  diffidence  of  our  powers, 
yet  with  the  full  purpose  of  straining  them  to  the  utmost,  according 
to  the  measure  with  which  it  hath  pleased  God  to  endow  our  mind. 
And  do  thou,  O  Lord,  from  whom  cometh  the  perception  of  truth, 
vouchsafe  to  Thy  servant  an  unction  from  Thine  own  Spirit,  who 


340  EDWARD    IRVING. 

searclieth  all  things,  yea,  the  deep  things  of  God  ;  and  vouchsafe  to 
Thj  people  "  the  hearing  ear  and  the  understanding  heart,  that 
they  may  hear  and  understand,  and  their  souls  may  live  !" 

Before  the  Almighty  made  His  appearance  upon  Sinai,  there 
were  awful  precursors  sent  to  prepare  His  way  ;  while  He  abode  in 
sight,  there  were  solemn  ceremonies  and  a  strict  ritual  of  attendance ; 
when  He  departed,  the  whole  camp  set  itself  to  conform  unto  His  re- 
vealed will.  Likewise,  before  the  Saviour  appeared,  with  His  better 
law,  there  was  a  noble  procession  of  seers  and  prophets,  who  de- 
cried and  warned  the  world  of  His  coming ;  when  He  came  there 
were  solemn  announcements  in  the  heavens  and  on  the  earth  :  He 
did  not  depart  without  due  honors ;  and  then  followed,  on  His  de- 
parture, a  succession  of  changes  and  alterations  which  are  still  in 
progress,  and  shall  continue  in  progress  till  the  world's  end.  This 
may  serve  to  teach  us,  that  a  revelation  of  the  Almighty's  will  make 
demand  for  these  three  things,  on  the  part  of  those  to  whom  it  is 
revealed  :  A  due  jjreparatio^i  for  receiving  it ;  a  diligent  attention  to  it 
while  it  is  disclosing  ;  a  strict  observance  of  it  when  it  is  delivered. 

In  the  whole  book  of  the  Lord's  revelations,  you  shall  search  in 
vain  for  one  which  is  devoid  of  these  necessary  parts.  Witness  the 
awe-struck  Isaiah,  while  the  Lord  displayed  before  him  the  sublime 
pomp  of  His  presence ;  and,  not  content  with  overpowering  the  frail 
sense  of  the  prophet,  dispatched  a  seraph  to  do  the  ceremonial  of 
touching  his  lip  with  hallowed  fire,  all  before  He  uttered  one  word 
into  his  astonished  ear.  Witness  the  majestic  apparition  to  Saint 
John,  in  the  Apocalypse,  of  all  the  emblematical  glory  of  the  Son 
of  Man,  allowed  to  take  silent  effect  upon  the  apostle's  spirit,  and 
prepare  it  for  the  revelation  of  things  to  come.  These  heard  with 
all  their  absorbed  faculties,  and  with  all  their  powers  addressed  them 
to  the  bidding  of  the  Lord.  But,  if  this  was  in  aught  flinched  from, 
witness,  in  the  persecution  of  the  prophet  Jonah,  the  fearful  issues 
which  ensued.  From  the  presence  of  the  Lord  he  could  not  flee. 
Fain  would  he  have  escaped  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  ;  but 
in  the  mighty  waters  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  fell  upon  him ;  and 
when  engulfed  in  the  deep,  and  entombed  in  the  monster  of  the 
deep,  still  the  Lord's  word  was  upon  the  obdurate  prophet,  who  had 
no  rest,  not  the  rest  of  the  grave,  till  he  had  fulfilled  it  to  the  very 
uttermost. 

Now,  judging  that  every  time  we  open  the  pages  of  this  holy 
book,  we  are  to  be  favored  with  no  less  than  a  communication  from 
on  high,  in  substance  the  same  as  those  whereof  we  have  detailed 
the  three  distinct  and  several  parts,  we  conceive  it  due  to  the  maj- 


PREPARATION  FOR  CONSULTING  GOD'S  ORACLES.  34I 

esty  of  Him  wlio  speaks,  that  we,  in  like  manner,  discipline  our 
spirits  with  a  due  preparation,  and  have  them  in  a  proper  frame,  be- 
fore we  listen  to  the  voice  ;  that,  while  it  is  disclosing  to  us  the  im- 
portant message,  we  be  wrapt  in  full  attention ;  and  that,  when  it 
hath  disburdened  itself  into  our  opened  and  enlarged  spirits,  we 
proceed  forthwith  to  the  business  of  its  fulfillment,  whithersoever 
and  to  whatseover  it  summon  us  forth.  Upon  each  of  these  three 
duties,  incumbent  upon  one  who  would  not  forego  the  benefit  of  a 
heavenly  message,  we  will  discourse  apart,  addressing  ourselves  in 
this  discourse  to  the^rs^-mentioned  of  the  three. 

The  iwejyaration for  the  announcement. — "When  God  uttereth  His 
voice,"  says  the  Psalmist,  "  coals  of  fire  are  kindled  ;  the  hills  melt 
down  like  wax ;  the  earth  quakes ;  and  deep  proclaims  itself  unto 
hollow  deep."  These  sensible  images  of  the  Creator  have  now 
vanished,  and  we  are  left  alone,  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  meditat- 
ive mind,  to  discern  his  coming  forth.  No  trump  of  heaven  now 
speaketh  in  the  world's  ear.  No  angelic  conveyancer  of  Heaven's 
will  taketh  shape  from  the  vacant  air ;  and,  having  done  his  errand, 
retireth  into  his  airy  habitation.  No  human  messenger  putteth  forth 
his  miraculous  hand  to  heal  Nature's  unmedicable  wounds,  winning  for 
his  words  a  silent  and  astonished  audience.  Majesty  and  might  no 
longer  precede  the  oracles  of  Heaven.  They  lie  silent  and  unob- 
trusive, wrapped  up  in  their  little  compass,  one  Volume  among 
many,  innocently  handed  to  and  fro,  having  no  distinction  but  that 
in  which  our  mustered  thoughts  are  enabled  to  invest  them.  The 
want  of  solemn  preparation  and  circumstantial  pomp,  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  mind  hath  now  to  supply.  The  presence  of  the  Deity, 
and  the  authority  of  His  voice,  our  thoughtful  spirits  must  discern. 
Conscience  must  supply  the  terrors  that  Avere  wont  to  go  before 
Him  ;  and  the  brightness  of  His  coming,  which  the  sense  can  no 
longer  behold,  the  heart,  ravished  with  His  word,  must  feel. 

For  the  solemn  vocation  of  all  her  powers,  to  do  her  Maker 
honor  and  give  Him  welcome,  it  is,  at  the  very  least,  necessary  that 
the  soul  stand  absolved  from  every  call.  Every  foreign  influence  or 
authority  arising  out  of  the  world,  or  the  things  of  the  world, 
should  be  burst  when  about  to  stand  before  the  Fountain  of  all  au- 
thority ;  every  argument,  every  invention,  every  opinion  of  man 
forgot,  when  about  to  approach  to  the  Father  and  oracle  of  all  intel- 
ligence. And  as  subjects,  when  their  honors,  with  invitations,  are 
held  disengaged,  though  preoccupied  with  a  thousand  appointments, 
so,  upon  an  audience,  fixed  and  about  to  be  hoi  den  with  the  King 
of  kings,  it  will  become  the  honored  mortal  to  break  loose  from  all 


342  EDWARD  mviNa. 

tlaralldom  of  men  and  tilings,  and  be  arrayed  in  liberty  of  tliongbt 
and  action  to  drink  in  tlie  rivers  of  His  pleasure,  and  to  perform 
tbe  commission  of  His  lips. 

Now  far  otherwise  it  liatli  appeared  to  us,  that  Christians  as  well 
as  worldly  men  come  to  this  most  august  occupation  of  listening  to 
the  word  of  God ;  preoccupied  and  prepossessed,  inclining  to  it  a 
partial  ear,  a  straitened  understanding,  and  a  disaflected  will. 

The  Christian  public  are  prone  to  preoccupy  themselves  with  the 
admiration  of  those  opinions  by  which  they  stand  distinguished  as  a 
Church  or  sect  from  other  Christians,  and  instead  of  being  quite  un- 
fettered to  receive  the  whole  counsel  of  the  divinity,  they  are  pre- 
pared to  welcome  it  no  further  than  it  bears  upon,  and  stands  with 
opinions  which  they  already  favor.  To  this  pre-judgment  the  early 
use  of  catechisms  mainly  contributes,  which,  however  serviceable  in 
their  place,  have  the  disadvantage  of  presenting  the  truth  in  a  form 
altogether  different  from  what  it  occupies  in  the  Word  itself.  In  the 
one  it  is  presented  to  the  intellect  chiefly  (and  in  our  catechisms  to 
an  intellect  of  a  very  subtle  order),  in  the  other  it  is  presented  more 
frequently  to  the  heart,  to  the  affections,  to  the  imitations,  to  the 
fancy,  and  to  all  the  faculties  of  the  soul.  In  early  youth,  which  is 
so  applied  to  with  those  compilations,  an  association  takes  place  be- 
tween religion  and  intellect,  and  a  divorcement  of  religion  from  the 
other  powers  of  the  inner  man.  This  derangement,  judging  from 
observation  and  experience,  it  is  exceeding  difficult  to  jDut  to  rights 
in  after-life ;  and  so  it  comes  to  pass,  that  in  listening  to  the  oracles 
of  religion,  the  intellect  is  chiefly  awake,  and  the  better  parts  of  the 
message — those  which  address  the  heart  and  its  affections,  those 
■which  dilate  and  enlarge  our  admiration  of  the  Godhead,  and  those 
which  speak  to  the  various  sympathies  of  our  nature,  we  are,  by  the 
injudicious  use  of  these  narrow  epitomes,  disqualified  to  receive. 

In  the  train  of  these  comes  controversy  with  his  rough  voice  and 
unmeek  aspect,  to  disqualify  the  soul  for  a  full  and  fair  audience  of 
its  Maker's  word.  The  points  of  the  faith  we  have  been  called  on  to 
defend,  or  which  are  reputable  with  our  party,  assume,  in  our  esteem, 
an  importance  disproportionate  to  their  importance  in  the  Word 
which  we  come  to  relish  chiefly  when  it  goes  to  sustain  them,  and 
the  Bible  is  hunted  for  arguments  and  texts  of  controversy,  which 
are  treasured  up  for  future  service.  The  solemn  stillness  which  the 
soul  should  hold  before  his  Maker,  so  favorable  to  meditation  and 
rapt  communion  with  the  throne  of  God,  is  destroyed  at  every 
turn  by  suggestions  of  what  is  orthodox  and  evangelical — where  all 
is  orthodox  and  evangelical ;  the  spirit  of  such  readers  becomes  lean, 


PREPARATION  POR  CONSULTING  GOD'S  ORACLES. 


843 


being  fed  with  abstract  trutlis  and  formal  propositions ;  their  temper 
■uncongenial,  being  ever  disturbed  with  controversial  suggestions ; 
their  prayers  undevout  recitals  of  their  opinions ;  their  discourse 
technical  announcements  of  their  faith.  Intellect,  cold  intellect,  hath 
the  sway  over  heavenward  devotion  and  holy  fervor.  Man,  conten- 
tious man,  hath  the  attention  which  the  unsearchable  God  should 
undivided  have ;  and  the  fine,  full  harmony  of  heaven's  melodious 
voice,  which,  heard  apart,  were  sufiicient  to  lap  the  soul  in  ecstasies 
unspeakable,  is  jarred  and  interfered  with,  and  the  heavenly  spell 
is  broken  by  the  recurring  conceits,  sophisms,  and  passions  of  men. 
Now  truly  an  utter  degradation  it  is  of  the  Godhead  to  have  His 
word  in  league  with  that  of  any  man,  or  any  council  of  men.  What 
matter  to  me  whether  the  Pope,  or  any  work  of  any  mind  be  exalted 
to  the  quality  of  God  ?  If  any  helps  are  to  be  imposed  for  the  un- 
derstanding, or  safe-guarding,  or  sustaining  of  the  Word,  why  not 
the  help  of  statues  and  pictures  for  my  devotions?  Therefore,  while 
the  warm  fancies  of  the  Southerns  have  given  their  idolatry  to  the 
ideal  forms  of  noble  art,  let  us  Northerns  beware  we  give  not  our 
idolatry  to  the  cold  and  coarse  abstractions  of  human  intellect. 

For  the  preoccupations  of  worldly  minds,  they  are  not  to  be  reck- 
oned up,  being  manifold  as  their  favorite  passions  and  pursuits.  One 
thing  only  can  be  said,  that  before  coming  to  the  oracles  of  God  they 
are  not  preoccupied  with  the  expectation  and  fear  of  Him.  No 
chord  in  their  heart  is  in  unison  with  things  unseen ;  no  moments 
are  set  apart  for  religious  thought  and  meditation  ;  no  anticipations 
of  the  honored  interview ;  no  prayer  of  preparation  like  that  of  Dan- 
iel before  Gabriel  was  sent  to  teach  him ;  no  devoutness  like  that  of 
Cornelius  before  the  celestial  visitation ;  no  fastings  like  that  of  Pe- 
ter before  the  revelation  of  the  glory  of  the  Gentiles !  Now  to  minds 
which  are  not  attuned  to  holiness,  the  words  of  God  find  no  entrance, 
striking  heavy  on  the  ear,  seldom  making  way  to  the  understand- 
ing, almost  never  to  the  heart.  To  spirits  hot  with  conversation, 
perhaps  heady  with  argument,  uncomposed  by  solemn  thought,  but 
ruffled  and  in  uproar  from  the  concourse  of  worldly  interests,  the 
sacred  page  may  be  spread  out,  but  its  accents  are  drowned  in  the 
noise  which  hath  not  yet  subsided  in  the  breast.  All  the  awe,  and 
pathos,  and  awakened  consciousness  of  a  Divine  approach,  impressed 
upon  the  ancients  by  the  procession  of  solemnities,  is  to  worldl}^  men 
without  a  substitute.  They  have  not  solicited  themselves  to  be  in 
readiness.  In  a  usual  mood,  and  vulgar  frame  they  come  to  God's 
Word  as  to  other  compositions,  reading  it  without  any  active  imagi- 
nations about  Him  who  speaks ;  feeling  no  awe  of  a  sovereign  Lord, 


344  EDWARD    IRVING. 

nor  care  of  a  tender  Father,  nor  devotion  to  a  merciful  Saviour. 
Nowise  depressed  themselves  out  of  their  Avonted  dependence,  nor 
humihated  before  the  King  of  kings — no  prostrations  of  the  soul,  nor 
falling  at  His  feet  as  dead — no  exclamation,  as  of  Isaiah,  "  Woe  is 
me,  for  I  am  of  unclean  lips!" — nor  suit  "  Send  me," — nor  fervent 
ejaculation  of  welcome,  as  of  Samuel,  "  Lord,  speak,  for  Thy  servant 
heareth !"  Truly  they  feel  toward  His  word  much  as  to  the  word  of 
an  equal.  No  wonder  it  shall  fail  of  happy  influence  upon  spirits 
which  have,  as  it  were  on  purpose,  disqualified  themselves  for  its 
benefits  by  removing  from  the  regions  of  thought  and  feeling  which 
it  accords  with,  into  other  regions,  which  it  is  of  too  severe  dignity 
to  affect,  otherwise  than  with  stern  menace  and  direful  foreboding ! 
If  they  would  have  it  bless  them  and  do  them  good,  they  must 
change  their  manner  of  approaching  it,  and  endeavor  to  bring  them- 
selves into  that  prepared,  and  collected,  and  reverential  frame  which 
becomes  an  interview  with  the  High  and  holy  One  who  inhabiteth 
the  praises  of  eternity. 

Having  thus  spoken  without  equivocation,  and  we  hope  without 
offense,  to  the  contradictedness  and  preoccupation  with  which  Chris- 
tians and  worldly  men  are  apt  to  come  to  the  perusal  of  the  Word 
of  God,  we  shall  now  set  forth  the  two  master-feelings  under  which 
we  shall  address  ourselves  to  the  sacred  occupation. 

It  is  a  good  custom,  inherited  from  the  hallowed  days  of  Scottish 
piety,  and  in  our  cottages  still  preserved,  though  in  our  cities  gener- 
ally given  uji,  to  preface  the  morning  and  evening  worship  of  the 
family  with  a  short  invocation  of  blessing  from  the  Lord.  This  is  in 
unison  with  the  practice  and  recommendation  of  pious  men,  never  to 
open  the  Divine  Word  without  a  silent  invocation  of  the  Divine 
Spirit.  But  no  address  to  Heaven  is  of  any  virtue,  save  as  it  is  the 
expression  of  certain  pious  sentiments  with  which  the  mind  is  full 
and  overflowing.  Of  those  sentiments  which  befit  the  mind  that 
comes  into  conference  with  its  Maker,  the  first  and  most  prominent 
should  be  gratitude  for  His  ever  having  condescended  to  hold  com- 
merce with  such  wretched  and  fallen  creatures.  Gratitude  not  only 
expressing  itself  in  proper  terms,  but  possessing  the  mind  with  one 
abiding  and  over-mastering  mood,  under  which  it  shall  sit  impressed 
the  whole  duration  of  the  interview.  Such  an  emotion  as  can  not 
utter  itself  in  language — though  by  language  it  indicate  its  presence 
— ^but  keeps  us  in  a  devout  and  adoring  frame,  while  the  Lord  is  ut- 
tering His  voice. 

Go  visit  a  desolate  widow  with  consolation,  and  help,  and  father- 
hood of  her  orphan  children — do  it  again  and  again,  and  your  pres- 


PREPARATION  FOR  CONSULTING  GOD'S  ORACLES.  345 

ence,  the  sound  of  your  approaclimg  footstep,  the  soft  utterance  of 
your  voice,  the  very  mention  of  your  name,  shall  come  to  dilate  her 
heart  with  a  fullness  which  defies  her  tongue  to  utter,  but  speaking 
by  the  tokens  of  a  swimming  eye,  and  clasped  hands,  and  fervent 
ejaculations  to  Heaven  upon  your  head !  No  less  copious  acknowl- 
edgment of  God,  the  Author  of  our  well-being,  and  the  Father  of  our 
better  hopes,  ought  we  to  feel  when  His  Word  discloseth  to  us  the 
excess  of  His  love.  Though  a  vail  be  now  cast  over  the  Majesty 
which  speaks,  it  is  the  voice  of  the  Eternal  which  we  hear,  coming 
in  soft  cadences  to  win  our  favor,  yet  omnipotent  as  the  voice  of  the 
thunder,  and  overpowering  as  the  rushing  of  many  waters.  And 
though  the  vail  of  the  future  intervene  between  our  hand  and  the 
promised  goods,  still  are  they  from  His  lips  who  speaks  and  it  is 
done,  who  commands,  and  all  things  stand  fast.  With  no  less  emo- 
tion, therefore,  should  this  Book  be  opened,  than  if,  like  him  in  the 
Apocalypse,  you  saw  the  voice  which  spake ;  or,  like  him  in  the 
trance,  you  were  into  the  third  heaven  translated,  company  and  com- 
muning with  the  realities  of  glory  which  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  nor  the  heart  of  man  conceived. 

Far  and  foreign  from  such  an  opened  and  awakened  bosom,  is 
that  cold  and  formal  hand  which  is  generally  laid  upon  the  sacred 
Volume ;  that  unfeeling  and  unimpressive  tone  with  which  its  accents 
are  pronounced ;  and  that  listless  and  incurious  ear  into  which  its 
blessed  sounds  are  received.  How  can  you,  thus  unimpassioned, 
hold  communion  with  themes  in  which  every  thing  awful,  vital, 
and  endearing  meet  together  !  Why  is  not  curiosity,  curiosity  ever 
hungry,  on  edge  to  know  the  doings  and  intentions  of  Jehovah, 
King  of  kings?  Why  is  not  interest,  interest  ever  awake,  on  tip-toe 
to  hear  the  future  destiny  of  itself?  Why  is  not  the  heart  that  pant- 
eth  over  the  world  after  love  and  friendship,  overpowered  with  the 
full  tide  of  the  Divine  acts  and  expressions  of  love  ?  Where  is  nature 
gone  when  she  is  not  moved  with  the  tender  mercy  of  Christ  ?  Me- 
thinks  the  affections  of  men  are  fallen  into  the  yellow  leaf.  Of  the 
poets  which  charm  the  world's  car,  who  is  he  that  inditeth  a  song 
unto  his  God  ?  Some  will  tune  their  harps  to  sensual  pleasure,  and 
by  the  enchantment  of  their  genius  well-nigh  commend  their  unholy 
themes  to  the  imagination  of  saints.  Others  to  the  high  and  noble 
sentiments  of  the  heart,  will  sing  of  domestic  joys  and  happy  unions, 
casting  around  sorrow  the  radiancy  of  virtue,  and  bodying  forth,  in 
undying  forms,  the  short-lived  visions  of  joy  !  Others  have  enrolled 
themselves  the  high-priests  of  mute  nature's  charms,  enchanting  her 
echoes  with  their  minstrelsy,  and  peopling  her  solitudes  with  the 


346  EDWARD    IRYING. 

bright  creatures  of  tlieir  fancy.  But  when,  since  the  days  of  the 
blind  master  of  Enghsh  song,  hath  any  poured  forth  a  lay  worthy 
of  the  Christian  theme?  Nor  in  philosophy,  "the  palace  of  the 
soul,"  have  men  been  more  mindful  of  their  Maker.  The  flowers 
of  the  garden,  and  the  herbs  of  the  field  have  their  unwearied  devo- 
tees, crossing  the  ocean,  wayfaring  in  the  desert,  and  making  devout 
pilgrimages  to  every  region  of  nature  for  offerings  to  their  patron 
muse.  The  rocks,  from  their  residences  among  the  clouds,  to  their 
deep  rests  in  the  dark  bowels  of  the  earth,  have  a  bold  and  most  ven- 
turous priesthood,  who  see  in  their  rough  and  flinty  faces  a  more  de- 
lectable image  to  adore  than  in  the  revealed  countenance  of  God. 
And  the  political  welfare  of  the  world  is  a  very  Moloch,  who  can  at 
any  time  command  his  hecatomb  of  human  victims.  But  the 
revealed  suspense  of  God,  to  which  the  harp  of  David,  and  the  pro- 
phetic lyre  of  Isaiah  were  strung,  the  prudence  of  God,  which  the 
wisest  of  men  coveted  after,  preferring  it  to  every  gift  which  Heaven 
could  confer,  and  the  eternal  intelligence  himself  in  human  form,  and 
the  unction  of  the  Holy  One  which  abideth — these  the  common  heart 
of  man  hath  forsaken,  and  refused  to  be  charmed  withal. 

I  testify,  that  there  ascendeth  not  from  earth  a  hosannah  of  her 
children  to  bear  witness  in  the  ear  of  the  upper  regions  to  the  won- 
derful manifestations  of  her  God !  From  a  few  scattered  hamlets  in 
a  small  portion  of  her  territory,  a  small  voice  ascendeth,  like  the  voice 
of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness.  But  to  the  service  of  our  general 
Preserver  there  is  no  concourse  from  Dan  unto  Bersheeba,  of  our  peo- 
ple, the  greater  part  of  whom,  after  two  thousand  years  of  apostolic 
commission,  have  not  the  testimonies  of  our  God  ;  and  the  multitude 
of  those  who  disrespect  or  despise  them  ! 

But,  to  return  from  this  lamentation,  which,  may  God  hear,  who 
doth  not  disregard  the  cries  of  His  afflicted  people  !  "With  the  full 
sense  of  obligation  to  the  giver,  combine  a  humble  sense  of  your 
own  incapacity  to  value  and  to  use  the  gift  of  His  oracles.  Having 
no  taste  whatever  for  the  mean  estimates  which  are  made,  and  the 
coarse  invectives  that  are  vented  against  human  nature,  which, 
though  true  in  the  main,  are  often  in  the  manner  so  unfeeling  and 
triumphant,  as  to  reveal  hot  zeal  rather  than  tender  and  deep  sor- 
row, we  will  not  give  in  to  this  popular  strain.  And  yet  it  is  a  truth 
by  experience,  revealed,  that  though  there  be  in  man  most  noble 
faculties,  and  a  nature  restless  after  the  knowledge  and  truth  of 
things,  there  are,  toward  God  and  His  revealed  will,  an  indisposi- 
tion and  a  regardlessness,  which  the  most  tender  and  enlightened 
consciences  are  the  most  ready  to  acknowledge.     Of  our  emancipated 


PEEPARATION    FOR    CONSULTING    GOD'S    ORACLES.    347 

youth,  who,  bound  after  tlie  knowledge  of  the  visible  works  of  God, 
and  the  gratification  of  the  various  instincts  of  nature,  how  few  be- 
take themselves  at  all,  how  few  absorb  themselves  with  the  study 
and  obedience  of  the  word  of  God  !  And  when,  by  God's  visita- 
tion, we  address  ourselves  to  the  task,  how  slow  is  our  progress  and 
how  imperfect  our  performance  !  it  is  most  true  that  nature  is  un- 
willing to  the  subject  of  the  Scriptures.  The  soul  is  previously 
possessed  with  adverse  interests  ;  the  world  hath  laid  an  embargo  on 
her  faculties,  and  monopolized  them  to  herself;  old  habit  hath  per- 
haps added  to  his  almost  incurable  callousness ;  and  the  enemy  of 
God  and  man  is  skillful  to  defend  what  he  hath  already  won.  So 
circumstanced,  and  every  man  is  so  circumstanced,  we  come  to  the 
audience  of  the  word  of  God,  and  listen  in  worse  tune  than  a  wan- 
ton to  a  sermon,  or  a  hardened  knave  to  a  judicial  address.  Our 
understanding  is  prepossessed  with  a  thousand  idols  of  the  world, 
religious  or  irreligious — which  corrupt  the  reading  of  the  word  into 
a  straining  of  the  text  to  their  service,  and  when  it  will  not  strain, 
cause  it  to  be  skimmed,  and  perhaps  despised  or  hated.  Such  a 
thing  as  a  free  and  unlimited  reception  of  all  parts  of  the  Scripture 
into  the  mind,  is  a  thing  most  rare  to  be  met  with,  and  when  met 
with,  will  be  found  the  result  of  many  a  sore  submission  of  nature's 
opinions  as  well  as  of  nature's  likings. 

But  the  word,  as  hath  been  said,  is  not  for  the  intellect  alone,  but 
for  the  heart,  and  for  the  will.  Now  if  any  one  be  so  wedded  to  his 
own  candor  as  to  think  he  doth  accept  the  divine  truth  unabated, 
surely  no  one  will  flatter  himself  into  the  belief  that  his  heart  is  at- 
tuned and  enlarged  for  all  divine  commandments.  The  man  who 
thus  misdeems  of  himself  must,  if  his  opinions  were  just,  be  like  a 
sheet  of  fair  paper,  unblotted  and  unwritten  on ;  whereas  all  men 
are  already  occupied,  to  the  very  fullness,  with  other  opinions  and 
attachments,  and  desires  than  the  word  reveals.  We  do  not  grow 
Christians  by  the  same  culture  by  which  we  grow  men,  otherwise 
what  need  of  divine  revelation,  and  divine  assistance  ?  But  being 
unacquainted  from  the  womb  with  God,  and  attached  to  what  is  seen 
and  felt,  through  early  and  close  acquaintance,  we  are  ignorant  and 
detached  from  what  is  unseen  and  unfelt.  The  word  is  a  novelty  to 
our  nature,  its  truths  fresh  truths,  its  affections  fresh  affections,  its 
obedience  gathered  from  the  apprehension  of  nature  and  the  com- 
merce of  worldly  life.  Therefore  there  needeth,  in  one  that  would 
be  served  from  this  storehouse  opened  by  heaven,  a  disrelish  of  his 
old  acquisitions,  and  a  preference  of  the  new,  a  simple,  child-like 
teachableness,  an  allowance  of  ignorance  and  error,  with  whatever 


348  EDWAED    IRVING. 

else  beseems  an  anxious  learner.  Coming  to  the  word  of  God,  we 
are  like  children  brought  into  the  conversations  of  experienced  men ; 
and  we  should  humbly  listen  and  reverently  inquire  ;  or  we  are  like 
raw  rustics  introduced  into  high  and  polished  life,  and  we  should 
unlearn  our  coarseness,  and  copy  the  habits  of  the  station  ;  nay  we 
are  like  offenders  caught,  and  for  amendment  committed  to  the  bosom 
of  honorable  society,  with  the  power  of  regaining  our  lost  condition 
and  inheriting  honor  and  trust — therefore  we  should  walk  softly  and 
tenderly,  covering  our  former  reproach  with  modesty  and  humble- 
ness, hasting  to  redeem  our  reputation  bj'  distinguished  performances, 
against  offense  doubly  guarded,  doubly  watchful  for  dangerous  and 
extreme  positions,  to  demonstrate  our  recovered  goodness. 

These  two  sentiments — devout  veneration  of  Grod  for  His  un- 
speakable gift,  and  deep  distrust  of  our  capacity  to  estimate  and  use 
it  aright — will  generate  in  the  mind  a  constant  aspiration  after  the 
guidance  and  instruction  of  a  higher  power.  The  first  sentiment  of 
goodness  remembered,  emboldening  us  to  draw  near  to  Him  who 
first  drew  near  to  us,  and  who  with  Christ  will  not  refuse  us  any 
gift.  The  second  sentiment,  of  weakness  remembered,  teaching  us 
our  need,  and  prompting  us  by  every  interest  of  religion  and  every 
feeling  of  helplessness  to  seek  of  Him  who  hath  said,  "  If  any  one 
lack  wisdom  let  him  ask  of  God,  who  giveth  liberally  and  upbraid- 
eth  not."  The  soul  which  under  these  two  master-feelings  cometh 
to  read,  shall  not  read  without  profit.  Every  new  revelation  feeding 
his  gratitude  and  nourishing  his  former  ignorance,  will  confirm  the 
emotions  he  is  under,  and  carry  them  onward  to  an  unlimited  dimen- 
sion. Such  a  one  will  prosper  in  the  way  ;  enlargement  of  the  in- 
ner man  will  be  his  portion,  and  establishment  in  the  truth  his  ex- 
ceeding great  reward.  "  In  the  strength  of  the  Lord  shall  his  right 
hand  get  victory — even  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  His 
soul  shall  also  flourish  with  the  fruits  of  righteousness  from  the  seed 
of  the  Word,  which  liveth  and  abideth  forever." 

Thus  delivered  from  prepossessions  of  all  other  masters,  and  ar- 
rayed in  the  raiment  of  humility  and  love,  the  soul  should  advance 
to  the  meeting  of  her  God  ;  and  she  should  call  a  muster  of  all  her 
faculties,  and  have  all  her  poor  grace  in  attendance,  and  any  thing  she 
knows  of  His  excellent  works  and  exalted  ways  she  should  summon 
up  to  her  remembrance  :  her  understanding  she  should  quicken,  her 
memory  refresh,  her  imagination  stimulate,  her  affections  cherish, 
and  her  conscience  arouse.  All  that  is  within  her  should  be  stirred 
up,  her  whole  glory  should  awake  and  her  whole  beauty  display  it- 
self for  the  meeting  of  her  King.     As  His  hand-maiden  she  should 


PREPARATION    FOR    CONSULTING    GOD'S    ORACLES.     349 

meet  Him ;  His  own  handiwork,  though  sore  defaced,  yet  seeking 
restoration ;  His  humble,  because  offending  servant — yet  nothino- 
slavish,  though  humble — nothing  superstitious,  though  devout — 
nothing  tame,  though  modest  in  her  demeanor ;  but  quick  and 
ready,  all  addressed  and  wound  up  for  her  Maker's  will. 

How  different  the  ordinary  proceeding  of  Christians,  who,  with 
timorous,  mistrustful  spirits ;  with  an  abeyance  of  intellect,  and  a 
dwarfish  reduction  of  their  natural  powers,  enter  to  the  conference 
of  the  Word  of  God !  The  natural  powers  of  man  are  to  be  mis- 
trusted, doubtless,  as  the  willing  instruments  of  the  evil  one ;  but 
they  must  be  honored  also  as  the  necessary  instruments  of  the  Sj)irit 
of  God,  whose  operation  is  a  dream,  if  it  be  not  through  knowledge, 
intellect,  conscience,  and  action.  Now  Christians,  heedless  of  the 
grand  resurrection  of  the  mighty  instruments  of  thought  and  action, 
at  the  same  time  coveting  hard  after  holy  attainment,  do  often  re- 
sign the  mastery  of  themselves,  and  are  taken  into  the  counsel  of  the 
religious  world — whirling  around  the  eddy  of  some  popular  leader — 
and  so  drifted,  I  will  not  say  from  godliness,  but  drifted  certainly 
from  that  noble,  manly,  and  independent  course,  which,  under  steer- 
age of  the  Word  of  God,  they  might  safely  have  pursued  for  the 
precious  interests  of  their  immortal  souls.  Meanwhile  these  popular 
leaders,  finding  no  necessity  for  strenuous  endeavors  and  high 
science  in  the  ways  of  God,  but  having  a  gathering  host  to  follow 
them,  deviate  from  the  ways  of  deep  and  penetrating  thought — 
refuse  the  contest  with  the  literary  and  accomplished  enemies  of  the 
faith — bring  a  contempt  upon  the  cause  in  which  mighty  men  did 
formerly  gird  themselves  to  the  combat — and  so  cast  the  stumbling- 
block  of  a  mistaken  paltriness  between  enlightened  men  and  the 
cross  of  Christ !  So  far  from  this  simple-mindedness  (but  its  proper 
name  is  feeble-mindedness)  Christians  should  be — as  aforetime  in 
this  island  they  were  wont  to  be — the  princes  of  human  intellect,  the 
lights  of  the  world,  the  salt  of  the  political  and  social  state.  Till 
they  come  forth  from  the  swaddling-bands,  in  which  foreign  schools 
have  girt  them,  and  walk  boldly  upon  the  high  places  of  human  un- 
derstanding, they  shall  never  obtain  that  influence  in  the  upper  re- 
gions of  knowledge  and  power,  of  which,  unfortunately,  they  have 
not  the  apostolic  unction  to  be  in  quest.  They  will  never  be  the 
master  and  commanding  spirit  of  the  time,  until  they  cast  off  the 
wrinkled  and  withered  skin  of  an  obsolete  old  age,  and  clothe  them- 
selves with  intelligence  as  with  a  garment,  and  bring  forth  the  fruits 
of  power  and  love  and  of  a  sound  mind. 

Mistake  us  not,  for  we  steer  in  a  narrow,  very  narrow  channel, 


350  EDWARD    IRVING. 

witli  rocks  of  popular  prejudice  on  every  side.  Wliile  we  tlius  in- 
vocate  to  the  reading  of  the  "Word,  the  highest  strains  of  the  human 
soul,  mistake  us  not  as  derogating  from  the  office  of  the  Spirit  of 
God.  Far  be  it  from  any  Christian,  much  further  from  any  Chris- 
tian pastor,  to  withdraw  from  God  the  honor  which  is  every  where 
His  due ;  but  there  most  of  all  His  due  where  the  human  mind 
labored  alone  for  thousands  of  years,  and  labored  with  no  success — 
viz.,  the  regeneration  of  itself,  and  its  restoration  to  the  last  sem- 
blance of  the  Divinity !  Oh  !  let  him  be  reverently  inquired  after, 
devoutly  on,  and  most  thankfully  acknowledged  in  every  step  of 
progress  from  the  soul's  fresh  awakening  out  of  his  dark,  oblivious 
sleep — even  to  her  ultimate  attainment  upon  earth  and  full  accom- 
plishment for  heaven.  And  that  there  may  be  a  fuller  choir  of 
awakened  men  to  advance  His  honor  and  glory  here  on  earth,  and 
hereafter  in  heaven  above  ;  let  the  saints  bestir  themselves  hke  an- 
gels, and  the  ministers  of  religion  like  archangels  strong !  And 
now  at  length  let  us  have  a  demonstration  made  of  all  that  is  noble 
in  thought,  and  generous  in  action,  and  devoted  in  piety,  for  bestir- 
ring this  lethargy,  and  breaking  the  bonds  of  hell,  and  redeeming 
the  whole  world  to  the  service  of  its  God  and  King  ! 


Iiettlj  0f  i\t  ^mtxitiux  f  ulptt. 


THE    AMERICAN   PULPIT. 

The  first  preaching  of  a  j)nre  gospel  on  American  soil  was  not  in 
costly  temples  made  with  men's  hands.  It  was  amid  objects  more  sub- 
lime than  the  creations  of  human  art.  As  a  type  of  some  of  those 
scenes,  we  may  call  up  the  landuig  of  the  New  England  Pilgrims  After 
many  vain  attempts,  the  "  Mayflower"  has  touched  the  icy  shore,  and 
discharged  her  cargo  of  precious  souls.  Though  in  the  dead  of  winter, 
the  chosen  spot  has  in  it  something  inviting  to  the  cold  and  exhausted 
voyagers.  A  few  years  ago  the  hand  of  the  Indian  had  just  there  re- 
moved the  trees  for  growing  his  cora.  A  sweet  brook  runs  under  the 
hiU-side,  and  "  many  a  deHcate  spring  of  good  water  as  can  be  drimk," 
The  cannon  has  been  dragged  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  hills,  for  their 
defense,  and  the  groimd  is  beuig  laid  out,  that  the  families  may  be  by 
themselves.  Timber  has  at  length  been  felled  for  building ;  but  before 
it  could  be  framed,  the  last  day  of  the  week  had  come.  The  settmg-sim 
saw  in  that  secluded  spot  but  a  single  shed,  where  the  goods  might  be 
covered,  and  the  settlers  might  rest  their  weary  heads.  How  honored 
that  rude  structure.  There  spent  that  noble  band  of  pious  exiles  their 
first  Sabbath  on  the  land.  There  breathed  they  forth  the  first  notes  of 
praise  and  thanksgiving,  ere  long  to  ascend  from  every  hill  and  vale. 
And  there  the  first  Pilgrim  preacher,  on  the  21st  day  of  January,  1621, 
dispensed  to  loving  and  trustful  souls  the  consolations  of  the  Divine 
word. 

Or,  let  us  reproduce  the  scene  of  that  lovely  spring-day  Sabbath — 
the  first  spent  by  the  newly-arrived  settlers  ujDon  the  banks  of  the  Con- 
necticut— in  April,  1838.  Just  yonder  lie  upon  the  smooth  water  two 
or  three  small  vessels.  Here,  along  the  margin  of  the  creek,  are  a  few 
tents,  and  some  two  or  three  rude  huts,  Avith  the  boxes  and  luggage 
that  Avere  landed  yesterday,  j)iled  up  around  them ;  and  here  and  there 
a  httle  column  of  smoke,  going  up  in  the  still  morning  air,  shows  that 
the  inmates  are  m  motion.  Yet  all  is  quiet.  Though  the  sun  is  up, 
there  is  no  appearance  of  labor  or  business  ;  for  it  is  the  Sabbath.  By- 
and-by,  the  stilhiess  is  broken  by  the  beating  of  a  drum  ;  and  from  the 
tents  and  from  the  vessels,  a  congregation  comes  gathering  around  a 
spreading  oak. 

23 


354  THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT. 

Here  are  men  and  women  who  have  been  accustomed  to  the  luxuries 
of  wealth  in  a  metropolis,  and  to  the  refinements  of  a  comt.  Here  are 
ministers  who  have  disputed  in  the  Universities,  and  preached  under 
gothic  arches  in  London.  These  men  and  women  have  come  mto  the 
wilderness,  to  face  new  dangers,  to  encounter  new  temptations.  They 
look  to  God ;  and  words  of  solemn  prayer  go  up,  responding  to  the 
murmurs  of  the  woods  and  of  the  waves.  They  sing  Psalms  to  their 
Maker  and  Preserver ;  and  for  the  first  time  since  the  creation,  the 
echoes  of  these  hills  and  waters  are  wakened  by  the  voice  of  praise. 
The  word  of  God  is  opened,  and  their  fiiith  and  hope  are  strengthened 
by  the  remembrance  of  Him,  who  once  like  them  was  led  by  the  Spirit 
into  the  wilderness.* 

Amid  such  scenes,  and  m  places  Uke  these,  began  the  preachmg  of 
Christ's  Gospel  in  this  Western  world — scenes  and  places  soon  exchanged 
for  the  plain  but  spacious  sanctuaries,  which  in  a  few  generations  dotted 
aU  parts  of  the  land.  Thus  were  laid  the  foundations  of  the  American 
PiTLPiT ;  for,  although  there  had  been  settlements  here  of  an  earher  date, 
the  glorious  mstitution  of  preaching  was  not  fairly  inaugurated  imtil 
the  times  to  which  we  refer. 

And  the  men  to  whom  this  honor  belongs  were  not  unworthy  of 
their  high  position,  as  the  "  fathers"  of  the  American  preachers.  The 
records  of  the  times,  their  noble  deeds,  and  the  institutions  upon  which 
they  have  left  their  impress,  alike  attest  to  their  rare  endowments. 
These  old  Pilgrim  and  Puritan  ministers  were  made  and  trained  by  God 
to  act  as  master-spirits  in  the  most  sublime  undertakings.  They  were 
men  of  dauntless  courage  and  invindUe  faith.  The  words  upon  their 
banner  revealed  their  confidence  and  devotion — Qui  transtulit  sustinet 
— "He  who  transplanted,  sustams."f  They  Avere  men  of  intelligence 
and  sound  learning.  Most  of  the  preachers  who  came  over  wdth  the 
colonists  had  been  educated  in  the  Universities  of  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge. They  brought  with  them  extensive  libraries,  and  were  close 
students  amid  all  their  toils.  It  is  said  to  have  been  no  uncommon 
thino;  for  the  early  New  England  ministers  to  read  from  the  Hebrew 
and  Greek  Scriptures,  at  the  ordinary  morning  and  evening  devotions 
in  their  families. 

In  doctrine^  the  Puritans  entertained  the  views  of  the  great  Reform- 
ers. The  form  of  doctrine  which  Laud  upheld  and  propagated,  they 
regarded  mth  great  dislike  ;  but  equally  so  the  mysticism  and  Antino- 
mianism  which,  in  that  age  of  excitement,  broke  out  in  various  quarters.^ 
Their  views  were  held  with  firmness,  and  insisted  upon  with  great  earn- 

*  This  description  of  the  first  Sabbath  on  the  Connecticut  river  is  drawn  from  Ba- 
con's "  Historical  Discourses."  The  sermon  preached  by  Davenport  on  the  occasion, 
was  from  Matt.  iv.  1,  on  "  The  temptation  in  the  wilderness." 

•j-  The  motto  upon  the  arms  of  Connecticut. 

X  Hooker's  great  sermon  on  the  "Activity  of  Faith,"  is  a  sufficient  confirmation. 


THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT.  355 

estness  in  their  preaching.  Hence  we  find  their  discourses  to  be,  at  the 
same  time,  both  strongly  docti-inal  and  highly  practical — insisting  alike 
upon  God's  sovereignty,  and  man's  duty  and  accountability. 

The  mode  of  toorship  which  they  introduced  was  not  materially  un- 
like that  which  is  now  generally  adopted.  About  nine  o'clock  the  peo- 
ple came  together  at  the  blowing  of  a  horn  or  the  beating  of  a  drum. 
The  pastor  began  with  a  solemn  prayer,  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in 
length.  The  teacher  then  read  and  expoiuided  a  chapter.  Then  a 
Psalm  was  sung,  the  lines  being  given  out  by  the  ruling  elder.  After 
that,  the  pastor  delivered  his  sermon,  not  written  out  in  full,  at  least 
not  in  all  cases,  but  from  notes  enlarged  upon  m  speaking.  In  some 
churches,  it  was  customary  for  the  congregation  to  arise  while  the 
preacher  read  his  text,  as  a  token  of  reverence  for  the  word  of  God. 
After  the  sermon,  the  teacher  concluded  with  prayer  and  a  blessing. 
In  the  afternoon  the  same  order  was  observed,  but  the  sermon  was  gen- 
erally preached  by  the  teacher  instead  of  the  pastor.* 

The  method  of  sermonizing  was,  first  to  unfold  the  text  historically 
and  critically ;  then  raise  from  it  a  "  doctrine ;"  then  bring  forward  the 
"  proofs,"  either  inferential  or  direct ;  then  illustrate  and  justify  it  to  the 
understanding  by  the  "  reasons"  drawn  from  the  philosojjhy  of  the  sub- 
ject, or  the  nature  of  things ;  and  finally,  conclude  with  an  "  improve- 
onenV  by  the  way  of  "  iises"  or  inferences,  and  timely  "  admonitions" 
and  "  exhortations.''  These  applications,  or  uses  and  exhortations,  often 
formed  the  greater  part  of  the  discourse.  In  some  cases  they  were 
made  under  the  different  heads,  as  the  preacher  progressed  in  his  dis- 
course. It  was  a  fi'equent  practice  to  preach  two  or  more  sermons  on 
the  same  text;  and  to  discuss  the  subject  "negatively"  and  "affirma- 
tively." Nor  were  the  preachers  particularly  cautious  about  "long  ser- 
mons" (and  the  same  was  true  of  the  hearers),  but  spoke  on  till  they 
had  completely  exhausted  the  subject,  even  though  the  last  sands  of  the 
hour-glass  had  already  fallen  out. 

The  general  character  of  their  sermotis  was  such  as  might  have  been 
expected  from  men  described  by  Hubbard  and  Higginson,  as  "  Timo- 
thies, in  their  houses,  Chrysostoms  in  their  pulpits,  and  Augustines  in 
their  disputations  ;"  and  from  the  sagacity  and  intelligence  of  the  con- 
gregations to  whom  they  preached.  None  biit  an  able  ministiy  would 
have  been  tolerated.  "  It  is  as  unnatural,"  said  one  of  the  men  of  these 
times,  "  for  a  right  New  England  man  to  live  without  an  able  ministry, 
as  for  a  smith  to  work  his  iron  without  a  fire." 

The  demand  which  these  shrewd  and  inteUigent  congregations  made 
upon  their  ministers  was  very  great ;  and  lest  their  energies  should  be 
overtaxed  and  lose  their  necessary  vigor  and  elasticity,  it  was  arranged 
that  every  congregation,  as  a  general  rule,  should  have  two  preachers, 
who  should  share  in  the  toil,  and  be  mutual  helpers  to  their  own  im- 
*  See  Bacon's  "Historical  Discourses,"  pp.  45,  46. 


356  THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT. 

provement  and  that  of  the  flock.  As  a  result,  the  pulpit  productions 
of  the  Puritans,  though  often  marred  by  the  faults  of  then-  age,  were 
generally  of  a  decidedly  superior  order.  The  sermons  of  some  of  these 
old  preachers,  which  have  come  doAvn  to  us,  for  cogency  of  reasoning, 
and  freshness,  and  depth  of  thought,  and  flashing  illustration,  and  fer- 
vent aj^peal,  and  rousing,  thrilling  apphcation,  are  rarely  excelled  in  the 
discourses  of  any  country  or  time. 

But  the  very  greatness  of  the  Puritan  divines  became  the  occasion 
of  serious  harm.  Such  were  their  superior  talents  and  attainments,  and 
such  was  the  deference  felt  for  their  opmions,  that  nothing  was  at- 
tempted -without  their  counsel  and  advice.  They  were,  virtually,  the 
heads  of  the  people.  In  civil  things  as  well  as  sacred,  they  were  con 
suited  ;  and  matters  generally  took  shape  according  to  their  views. 
Now  it  so  occurred  that,  with  all  their  lofty  quahties,  these  excellent  men 
were  not  entirely  perfect.  They  were  not  wholly  free  from  the  errors 
and  false  biases  of  the  times.  Far  in  advance  of  most  men  of  their  age, 
they  had  not,  nevertheless,  fully  worked  out  their  master-principles  to 
their  legitimate  results.  They  held  to  the  rights  of  conscience  /  and  for 
these  rights  they  had  contended  and  struggled  in  the  land  that  gave 
them  birth  ;  but  they  had  failed  to  jjerceive  the  bearings  of  this  doctrine, 
and  that  the  complete  disseverance  of  things  civil  from  things  spiritual, 
was  essential  to  a  due  respect  for  the  moral  sense  of  each  individual. 

Ignorance  or  misconception  at  this  pouit,  in  many  cases,  is  a  mat- 
ter of  small  moment ;  but  in  this  instance  it  proved  fatal.  When  the 
Massachusetts  colony  was  in  trouble  about  settling  the  affairs  of  the 
Church  and  the  Commonwealth,  John  Cotton,  a  tower  of  strength,  was 
asked  to  jireach  a  sermon  before  the  general  court.  The  text  he  chose 
was  Haggai,  ii.  4 :  "  Yet  now  be  strong,  O  Zcrubbabel,"  etc.,  and  on 
hearing  his  discourse,  "  all  obstructions  were  presently  removed,  and  the 
spirits  of  all  sorts,  as  one  man^  Avere  excited  unanimously."  The  court 
believed  that  the  people  were  "  to  be  governed  conformably  to  the  law 
of  God;"  and  desired  Mr.  Cotton  "to  draw  an  abstract  of  the  judicial 
laws  delivered  from  God  by  Moses."  This  he  did,  "  advising  them  to 
persist  in  estabhshing  a  Tlieocracy  (^.  e.  God's  government)  over  God's 
people.  The  court  folloAved  his  advice  ;  and  so  "  Moses  and  Aaron  re- 
joiced and  kissed  each  other  in  the  mount  of  God."* 

A  law  was  passed  that  "  no  persons  should  be  admitted  to  the 
freedom  of  the  body  politic,  but  such  as  were  members  of  some  of  the 
churches  within  its  limits." 

In  like  manner,  when  the  fomidations  of  the  New  Haven  Colony 
were  to  be  laid,  "  all  the  free  planters  met  in  Mr.  Newman's  barn,"  and 
Mr.  Davenport  preached  to  them  a  sermon  on  the  words  "  Wisdom  hath 
builded  her  house,"  etc. ;  after  which  they  " unanimously  Aoted  that  the 
Scriptures  do  hold  forth  a  perfect  rule  for  the  direction  and  government 
*  See  "  Life  of  John  Cotton,"  by  Norton,  pp.  46,  47,  whence  the  citations  are  drawn. 


THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT.  357 

of  men  in  all  duties,  as  well  in  families  and  commonwealths,  as  in  matters 
of  the  Church."  Upon  Mr.  Davenport's  recommendation,  it  was  also 
voted,  that  "  free  burgesses  shall  be  chosen  out  of  the  Church  members  ; 
they  that  are  in  the  foundation  work  of  the  Church,  being  actually  free 
burgesses  ;  and  to  choose  to  themselves  out  of  the  Hke  estate  of  Church- 
fellowship,  and  the  power  of  choosing  magistrates,  etc.,  and  the  busuaess 
of  hke  nature  are  to  be  transacted  by  these  free  burgesses."* 

This  fashioning  of  the  Commonwealth  to  the  setting  forth  of  God's 
house,  as  Mr.  Cotton  styled  it,  was  certainly  with  the  commendable  de- 
sign of  founding  "  such  civil  order  as  might  best  conduce  to  the  securing 
of  the  pxirity  and  peace  of  the  ordinances  to  themselves  and  their  poster- 
ity according  to  God."  But  it  was  the  parent  evil  of  every  unjustifiable 
procedure,  and  of  many  of  those  disasters  which  subsequently  befell  the 
ministry  and  the  churches.  Out  of  it  grew  those  instances  of  perse- 
cution for  opinion's  sake  which  tarnish  the  bright  pages  of  early  Amer- 
ican history.  And  out  of  it,  as  a  main  source,  sprang  that  wonderful  and 
well-nigh  universal  defection  in  the  pulpits  and  the  congregations  of 
New  England. 

This  inevitable  degeneracy  began  to  appear  within  the  first  half  cen- 
tury of  the  colonies'  existence.  As  early  as  1660-70  we  find  complaints 
of  the  decay  of  piety.  In  1677  the  support  of  the  ministry  in  Con- 
necticut was  transferred  from  the  churches  to  the  tovm  ;  and  some  one, 
generally  one  of  the  deacons,  was  chosen  to  "  make  up  the  rate  and  ap- 
point the  delivery  of  it  to  the  ministers,  and  to  prosecute  such  as  fail  in 
the  payment."  The  fact  is  indicative  of  at  least  a  lack  of  that  warmth 
of  afiection  for  those  then  serving  in  the  pulpit,  which  was  at  first  ap- 
parent, and  of  the  decline  of  the  power  of  religion. 

About  this  time  the  theology  of  the  New  England  ministry  seems  to 
have  undergone  a  change  most  imfavorable  to  vital  godliness.  The 
preaching  was  less  pointed  and  earnest  in  its  bearings  upon  the  impen- 
itent, and  less  marked  by  a  deep  evangelical  spirit.  Ministerial  duty,  as 
a  whole,  became  perfunctory  and  inefficient ;  the  result  almost  of  neces- 
sity incident  upon  making  the  minister,  when  once  settled,  independent 
of  his  people.  In  1702,  Dr.  Increase  Mather,  in  a  work  entitled  "The 
Glory  Departing  from  New  England,"  says,  "  Look  into  the  pulpits,  and 
see  if  there  is  such  a  glory  there  as  once  there  was.  New  England  has 
had  her  teachers,  emment  for  learning,  and  no  less  eminent  for  holiness 
and  all  ministerial  accomplishments.  There  are  ministers  who  are  not 
like  their  predecessors,  nor  prmcipled,  nor  spiritual  as  they  were.  How 
many  churches,  how  many  towns  are  there  in  New  England,  that  we 
may  sigh  over  them  and  say  the  glory  is  departed  .^" 

There  is  too  much  reason  to  beUeve  that  about  this  time,  many  of  the 
ministers  were  not  even  converted  men.  We  say  many,  for  the  remark 
is  by  no  means  true  of  the  clergy  as  a  whole.  All  through  this  lament- 
*Bacon'3  "Historical  Discourses,"  pp.  20-22. 


358  THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT. 

able  declension,  might  have  been  found  eminent  and  godly  servants  of 
the  Most  High,  who  bewailed  the  prevailing  corruption,  and  longed  for 
the  days  of  old.  But,  although  to  be  taken  with  some  grains  of  allow- 
ance, the  assertions  of  Whitfield,  about  1740,  and  of  Gilbert  Tennent* 
and  others,  leave  Uttle  room  to  doubt  that  a  large  number  of  the  occu- 
pants of  the  pulpits,  had  not  felt  the  influence  of  Divine  grace  upon  their 
own  hearts.  It  is  not  surprismg  that  this  should  have  been  the  case. 
"With  men  who  cared  little  for  rehgion  (and  theirs  was  the  predominating 
influence),  it  was  enough  that  the  preacher  possessed  education  and 
talents.  They  gave  him  their  support  all  the  more  readily,  because 
he  delivered  pleasant  moral  essays  rather  than  Gospel  sermons.  The 
preachers  of  these  tunes  are  described  as,  for  the  most  part,  "  grave  men 
in  speculation,  orthodox,  or  moderately  so,  who  went  the  customary 
round  of  ministerial  duties  with  a  good  degree  of  regularity  ;  but  whose 
preaching  lacked  pomt,  earnestness,  application.  Their  devotional  seiw- 
ices  lacked  warmth  and  spirituality ;  their  people  slumbered  and  they 
slumbered  with  them,  and  an  aspect  of  moral  desolation  and  death,  was 
spread  over  the  congregations  and  churches  where  they  labored."! 

We  have  alluded  to  a  single  cause  by  which  this  lamentable  state  of 
things  was  mduced — the  unnatural  alliance  between  the  Church  and  the 
State.  There  were  several  other  causes  which  powerfully  tended  to  this 
result ;  some  of  which  need  not  be  named.  We  glance  at  two  or  three 
of  the  more  prominent ;  adopting,  as  a  concise  statement,  the  narrative 
given  m  the  work  last  cited.  Referrmg  to  this  blending  of  thmgs  spiritual 
with  thmgs  temporal,  the  learned  author  observes  that,  "  It  held  out  a 
sort  of  premium  for  hypocrisy.  For  all  who  wished  to  enjoy  the  privi- 
lege of  freemen,  would  of  course  determine  to  become  members  of  the 
Church ;  and  as  this  could  be  permitted  only  on  a  profession  of  piety, 
they  would  be  strongly  tempted  to  make  such  a  profession  without  the 
requisite  qualifications.  Those,  on  the  other  hand,  who  had  too  much 
conscience  to  do  this,  or  who  having  applied  for  admission  to  the  Church, 
were  rejected,  would  of  course  be  decidedly  opposed  to  the  existing  or- 
der of  the  churches,  and  exert  all  their  mfluence  to  overthrow  it.  They 
deeply  felt  the  privations  to  which  they  were  subjected ;  and  as  they 
considered  them  wholly  unjust  and  oppressive,  they  loudly  complained 
of  them,  and  as  early  as  1646,  petitioned  not  only  the  courts  of  the  Colo- 
nies, but  the  British  Parliament,  praying,  as  they  say,  in  '  behalf  of  thou- 
sands,' that  they  might  enjoy  with  others  the  rights  and  privileges  of 
freemen. 

"  In  the  mean  time  the  ministers  and  cliurches  sympathizmg  with 
this  class  of  men   in   the   disabilities   under  which   they  labored,  were 

*  Ho  preached  a  sermon  from  Mark,  vi.  34,  "  On  the  Danger  of  an  Unconverted 
Ministry." 

f  See  a  "  Tribute  to  the  Memory  of  the  Pilgrims,"  by  Joel  Hawes,  D.D.,  Hartford, 
Conn.,  pp.  153,  154. 


THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT.  359 

strongly  inclined  to  extend  relief  to  them.  The  proper  Avay  of  doing 
this  was  to  abolish  the  law  which  they  had  so  unwisely  enacted.  But 
this  was  deemed  sacred.  In  these  embarrassing  circumstances,  a  power- 
ful temptation  was  presented  to  lower  the  terms  of  the  admission  to  the 
Church,  and  to  receive  persons  to  communion  on  slight  and  insufficient 
evidence  of  piety.  The  result  was,  that  not  a  few,  as  we  have  reason  to 
believe,  were  early  introduced  into  the  churches  who,  though  in  the 
maui  correct  iu  sentiment  and  moral  in  conduct,  were  strangers  to 
the  power  of  godliness,  and  averse  to  the  duties  of  strict  religion.  Their 
influence  was  like  an  incubus  on  the  vitals  of  the  Church.  It  tended  to 
depress  the  tone  of  piety,  and  to  iafuse  a  spirit  of  formality  and  world- 
liness  into  the  services  of  religion. 

"  The  next  cause  to  be  specified  was  the  introduction  of  the  half-way 
covenant.  This  strange  anomaly  m  religion  sprung  from  the  law,  the 
mischief  of  which  I  have  just  described.  From  natural  increase  and 
emigration  from  abroad,  the  class  of  persons  in  the  Colonies,  not 
qualified  to  profess  religion,  soon  became  numerous.  Many  of  these 
were  highly  respectable  for  their  talents  and  general  worth  of  character ; 
and  it  was  felt  to  be  a  hardship  that  they  should  be  deprived  of  the 
privileges  enjoyed  by  others  around  them,  and  especially  that  they 
should  be  denied  the  right  of  baj^tism  for  their  chUdreu,  which  they  had 
always  enjoyed  in  their  native  land.  To  obviate  these  difiiculties  was 
the  object  of  the  half-way  covenant.  It  provided  that  all  persons  of 
sober  life  and  correct  sentiments,  without  being  examined  as  to  a  change 
of  heart,  might  profess  reUgion,  or  become  members  of  the  Church,  and 
have  their  children  baptized,  though  they  did  not  come  to  the  Lord's 
table.  The  plan  originated  in  Connecticut.  It  was  formally  discussed 
and  adopted  at  a  meeting  of  ministers  ia  Boston,  in  1657,  and  ratified 
anew  in  all  in  its  essential  features,  by  a  general  synod  in  1662. 

"  This  mischievous  measure,  however,  was  from  the  first  strongly 
opposed  by  many  of  the  most  eminent  ministers  in  the  country,  and  by 
a  still  larger  number  of  the  churches ;  and  ia  this  state  it  was  not  adopt- 
ed by  a  single  church  till  1696.  But  it  afterward  prevailed  extensively 
throughout  New  England,  and  wherever  it  did  i^revail,  the  consequences 
were  eminently  unhappy.  Great  numbers  came  forward  to  own  the 
covenant,  as  it  was  called,  and  had  their  children  baptized,  but  very  few 
joined  the  Church  in  full  communion,  or  partook  of  the  sacrament ;  satis- 
fied with  being  halfway  m  the  Church,  and  enjoying  a  part  of  its  j^rivi- 
leges,  they  settled  down  in  a  state  of  dull  and  heartless  formality  ;  and 
felt  little  or  no  concern  respecting  their  present  condition  or  future  pros- 
pects. They  had  found  a  place  within  the  pale  of  the  visible  Church, 
which,  while  it  reheved  them  from  the  necessity  of  repentance  and  a  life 
of  holy  obedience,  quieted  them  in  their  sins,  and  gave  them  a  comfort- 
able but  deceitful  hope  of  heaven.  By  receiving  into  covenant  connec- 
tion  such  numbers  of  unsanctified  persons,  the  moral   energy  of  the 


360  THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT. 

churches  was  destroyed ;  then-  distinctive  character,  as  holy  communi- 
ties, was  swept  away ;  the  discipline  of  the  Gospel  could  no  longer  be 
maintained ;  nor  the  doctrines  nor  the  duties  of  the  Gospel  be  preached 
and  enforced  with  that  clearness  and  directness  which  are  requisite  to 
give  them  effect  on  the  heart  and  life. 

"  This  state  of  things  prepared  the  way  for  another  step  in  the  prog- 
ress of  dechne.  About  the  year  1700,  Mr.  Stoddard,  a  distinguished 
minister  of  Northampton,  inferred,  with  apparent  justness,  that  those 
who  m  virtue  of  their  covenant  connection  with  the  Church,  had  a  right 
to  receive  bajDtism  for  their  children,  had  an  equal  right  to  the  Lord's 
Supper.  This  led  him  on  to  another  conclusion,  that  the  Lord's  Supper 
is  among  the  a2)pointed  means  of  regeneration ;  a  converting  ordinance ; 
that  all  persons  ought  to  come  to  this  ordinance,  for  the  same  reason 
that  they  ought  to  attend  public  worship,  or  read  the  Bible  ;  and  conse- 
quently that  a  profession  of  piety  is  not  to  be  required  as  a  qualification 
for  communion  in  the  Church.  This  doctrine,  like  the  half-way  covenant, 
was  at  first  far  from  being  generally  approved  either  by  the  ministers  or 
churches.  It  was  regarded  as  a  dangerous  innovation,  and  as  directly 
opposed  to  the  principles  and  practice  of  almost  all  the  churches  in  iSTew 
England.  The  matter  was  publicly  controverted  between  Mr.  Stoddard 
and  Dr.  Increase  Mather  of  Boston.  But  '  owing  to  Mr.  Stoddard's 
great  influence  over  the  people  of  Northampton,  it  was  mtroduccd  there ; 
and  by  degrees  it  spread  very  much  among  ministers  and  people  in  that 
country,  and  in  other  parts  of  New  England.' 

"  The  great  principle  adopted  by  the  pilgrims  in  the  organization  of 
their  churches,  and  by  which  alone  their  purity  could  be  preserved,  was 
now  gone.  '  Piety  was  no  longer  regarded  as  an  essential  quaUfication 
for  membership  in  the  Church.  Unconverted  persons,  those  who  knew 
themselves  to  be  such,  were  received  as  members  of  the  spmtual  body 
of  Christ,  and  admitted  without  examination  or  restraint,  to  the  special, 
sealing  ordinances  of  the  Gospel.  This  practice  '  brought  in  the  first 
great  apostacy  of  the  Christian  Church ;'  and  wherever  it  was  adopted 
in  New  England,  the  influence  was  deplorable.  The  churches  in  which 
it  prevailed  ceased  to  be,  even  in  profession,  societies  of  sanctified  per- 
sons ;  and  composed  of  a  strange  mixture  of  the  holy  with  the  unholy, 
they  soon  lost  their  vital  energies,  and  sunk  into  a  state  of  great  for- 
mality and  coldness. 

"  As  another  cause  of  decline,  I  venture  to  mention  the  custom  of 
supporting  religion  by  law.  The  ministers  of  New  England  were  at  first 
supported  by  voluntary  contributions,  usually  made  at  the  close  of  public 
service  on  the  Sabbath,  but  this  method  being  found  inconvenient  and 
defective,  a  law  was  early  passed,  requiring  all  to  pay  for  the  support  of 
the  Gospel  in  proportion  to  their  property.  This  laAv,  with  some  modi- 
fications, continued  in  force  for  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  years,  and 
while  the  coimtry  was  thinly  settled,  and  the  ^^eoiile  were  nearly  all  of 


THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT.  361 

the  same  denomination,  the  law,  it  can  not  be  donhted,  was  productive 
of  much  good.  It  secured  to  the  community  a  much  greater  amoimt  of 
reHgious  instruction  than  could  have  been  expected  from  mere  voluntary- 
associations  for  the  support  of  the  Gospel,  but  that  the  good  was  coun- 
terbalanced by  no  small  amount  of  e\dl,  can  not,  I  think,  be  reasonably 
questioned.  The  law,  especially  in  its  earliest  provisions,  did  in  fact  cre- 
ate a  religious  establishment.  It  recognized  the  Congrega4;ional  churches 
as  the  established  churches  of  the  State,  and  secured  to  them  the  special 
patronage  and  support  of  the  civil  power.  Wliat  then  should  prevent 
the  churches  of  New  England  from  experiencing,  at  least  in  some  meas- 
ure, the  disastrous  effects  which  have  always  resulted  from  ecclesiastical 
establishments  ?  The  ministers  and  churches  lay  recumbent  on  the  civil 
arm,  and  slumbered  in  a  deceitful  security,  derived  from  the  protection 
and  support  of  law.  They  did  not  feel  their  dependence  on  God,  as  they 
would  in  other  circumstances,  nor  pray,  nor  act  with  that  humility  and 
decision  in  promoting  the  cause  of  religion  which  they  would  have  had 
under  a  due  impression  of  the  great  truth  that  salvatioyi  is  only  of  the 
Lor  dp 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  at  the  period  under  review.  The  Amer- 
ican puljjit  had  lost  its  original  might.  The  ministers  had  not  yet  re- 
nounced the  creed  of  their  fathers,  but  though  in  the  main  orthodox  in 
sentiment,  and  upright  in  life,  they  were  greatly  deficient  in  the  ^ax\\j 
and  power  of  their  holy  profession.  "  Their  fault  was  not  so  much  that 
they  preached  error^  as  that  they  did  not  preach  the  truth — at  least  not 
\\ith  that  discrimination  and  force  which  were  necessary  to  give  it  effect 
in  the  conversion  and  moral  improvement  of  man," 

With  the  opening  of  the  year  1V35,  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  begin  to 
pour  out  His  Spirit  in  a  wonderful  manner.  The  work  of  grace  com- 
menced in  Northampton,  where  the  celebrated  Jonathan  Edwards  was 
then  laboring.  Its  immediate  occasion  seems  to  have  been  a  series  of 
sermons  which  he  preached  on  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith.*  It 
soon  extended  into  the  adjacent  region,  spreading  even  to  many  of  the 
towns  in  Connecticut.  It  began  in  Boston  in  1740,  and  in  that  and  the 
three  following  years,  prevailed  in  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  con- 
gregations in  New  England,  and  some  of  the  Middle  and  Southern  States, 
to  a  great  extent  through  the  powerful  preaching  of  George  "Whitfield, 
who  arrived. in  Philadelphia  in  November,  1739,  and  began  to  preach  in 
New  England  in  Septembe]-,  1740.  It  is  estimated  that  in  two  or  three 
years  of  the  re\'ival  thirty  or  forty  thousand  souls  were  converted  m 
New  England  alone.f  In  that  part  of  the  country  one  hundred  and  fifty 
Congregational  churches  were  formed  within  twenty  years.  The  num- 
ber of  Presbyterian  ministers  had  increased  from  forty-five  to  one  hun- 
dred, saying  notliing  of  the  Baptists,  and  some  other  denominations, 
which  at  this  tune  began  greatly  to  increase, 

*  "Faithful  Narrative,"  pp.  36,  37.        \  Trarabull's  History  of  Connecticut,  vol.  ii.,  p.  8. 


362  THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT. 

In  the  progress  of  this  great  awakening  many  ministers  were  soundly 
converted,  and  the  majority  of  those  ah-eady  ^^ious  were  quickened  to 
new  hfe.  Not  to  speak  of  the  more  prominent  preachers  in  these  glori- 
ous times,  such  as  Edwards,  and  Prince,  and  the  Tennents,  and  Davies, 
it  is  certain  that  the  ministry  as  a  whole,  was  highly  effective,  as  com- 
pared with  the  past.  "VVliat  is  perhaps  more  important,  it  refonned  the 
pubhc  opinion  as  to  the  right  of  a  man  to  enter  the  sacred  office  before 
he  had  given  evidence  of  a  positive  change  of  heart.  It  established  also 
the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith — the  doctrine,  as  says  Luther,  by 
which  a  Church  must  stand  or  fall. 

After  continuing  for  some  years,  this  great  attention  to  the  subject  of 
reUgion  gradually  subsided,  and  the  American  pulpits  and  churches,  in- 
stead of  reflecting  the  sunshine  of  heaven,  were  destined  to  be  again  en- 
veloped in  thick  shadows.  A  difierent  set  of  unfavorable  influences  now 
began  to  operate.  Prominent  among  these  were  the  excesses  which  had 
characterized  in  some  mstances,  the  jDrogress  of  the  great  revival.  One 
way  which  Satan  has  of  undoing^  is  by  overdoing.  In  the  ministry  of 
that  day  there  were  those  whose  zeal  outran  their  knowledge.  Pufied 
up  with  success,  they  denounced  as  "  dumb  dogs"  those  who  could  not 
endorse  aU  their  views  and  measures,  and  by  this  means  widened  the 
already  existing  breach  between  difierent  ministers  as  to  the  matter  of 
revivals,  and  brought  a  reproacli  xipon  the  Christian  profession.  A  large 
number  of  ministers  and  churches,  because  of  this  rampant  fanaticism, 
took  a  permanent  and  decided  stand  against  special  religious  awakenings, 
and  those  doctrines  which  are  generally  blessed  of  God  in  producing 
them — a  circumstance  which  supphed  points  of  connection  for  the  ap- 
proaching departure  from  the  faith  which  is  in  Jesus. 

Then  came  the  French  war  and  the  war  of  the  Revolution ;  the  first 
of  which  lasted  from  1755  to  1763.  During  this  period,  the  pubHc 
mind  was  called  off"  from  religion,  and  absorbed  with  the  safety  and  in- 
terests of  the  nation.  In  the  mean  time,  a  multitude  of  foreign  officers 
and  soldiers  overspread  the  land,  whose  corrupt  principles  and  poisonous 
sentiments  sowed  the  seeds  of  irreligion  and  infidelity.  The  war  of  the 
Revolution,  also,  not  only  engrossed  the  attention  of  all  classes,  but  re- 
sulted m  the  complete  initiation  of  thousands  into  the  mysteries  of 
French  philosophy,  ^ath  whom  the  very  name  of  religion  became  a 
scoff"  and  a  by-word.  It  was,  for  the  time  being,  specially  disastrous 
upon  the  Churches,  whose  houses  of  worship  were  often  burned  or 
turned  into  bai'racks  or  stables  ;  and  upon  the  ministers,  against  whom, 
from  their  known  influence,  the  malice  of  the  hostile  forces  was  particu- 
larly directed.  It  does  not  seem  surprising  that,  in  such  an  age,  rehg- 
ion  declined  and  a  frost  settled  upon  the  pulpit.  In  1785  the  number 
of  parishes  in  Boston  was  actually  less  than  half  a  century  before. 

It  was  during  the  time  of  this  divided  state  of  the  churches,  this 
decay  of  piety,  and  this  unsettled  condition  of  poHtical  aff'airs    (and 


THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT. 


863 


partly  as  a  direct  result),  that  the  views  of  a  large  portion  of  the  ISTew 
England  clergy  rii)ened  into  positive  Unitarianism.  Indications  of  a 
veering  from  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  Trinity,  as  usually  held,  may  be 
seen  at  least  as  far  back  as  a  quarter  of  a  century  previous  to  the  close 
of  the  Revolutionary  struggle.  Freedoin  of  inquiry  began  to  be  the 
theme  of  general  praise.  Creeds  were  becoming  objects  of  suspicion. 
The  distinguishing  doctrines  of  the  Scriptures  were  touched  hghtly,  or 
alluded  to  as  the  deep  things  of  God,  which  the  Spirit  of  God  alone 
can  search  out,  and  about  which,  if  mentioned  at  all,  it  is  not  well  to  be 
wise  above  that  which  is  written.*  , 

An  edition  of  Emlyn's  "  Humble  Inquiry" — an  elaborate  attack 
upon  the  Deity  of  the  Redeemer — appeared  in  Boston,  1756.  Bel- 
lamy, in  1760,  speaks  of  the  remodeling  of  the  Shorter  Catechism  in 
New  Hampshire,  "  even  to  omit  the  Trinity ;"  and  of  a  "  celebrated 
doctor  of  divinity  at  the  head  of  a  large  party  in  Boston,  boldly  ridi- 
culing the  doctrme  of  the  Trinity,  and  denying  the  doctrine  of  justifi- 
cation by  faith  alone." 

In  1787  the  first  Unitarian  congregation  was  formed  in  America, 
gathering  around  James  Freeman,  in  Boston,  as  their  pastor.  In  1789 
Freeman,  in  a  letter  to  Belsham,  the  leader  of  Socinianism  in  England, 
observed  that  there  were  "  many  churches  in  which  the  worship  was 
strictly  Unitarian."  A  few  years  later,  writing  to  the  same  mdividual, 
he  said  he  knew  "  a  number  of  mmisters,  particularly  in  the  Southern 
part  of  Massachusetts,  who  avowed  and  pubHcly  preached  the  Unitarian 
doctrme  ;  while  others  contented  themselves  with  leading  their  hearers, 
by  a  course  of  rational  and  prudent  sermons,  gradually  and  insensibly 
to  embrace  it." 

From  tune  to  time,  earnest  words  w^ere  spoken  m  high  places,  de- 
fending the  ancestral  faith,  and  admonishing  all  of  the  "  rapid  current 
which,  without  a  breath  of  air,  was  wafting  them  away."  But  men 
of  shining  talents  were  rising  up  to  preach  with  "  charming  accents"  a 
more  liberal  Gospel,  and  draw  after  them  the  multitude ;  while  death 
was  dismantUng,  one  by  one,  the  few  towers  of  strength  on  which  yet 
floated  the  banner  of  the  Pilgrims.  In  the  mean  while,  the  vacant  pro- 
fessorship of  divinity  in  Harvard  College,  founded  by  Hollis,  a  London 
merchant,  at  once  a  Calvinist  and  a  Baptist,  for  the  support  of  a  j^ro- 
fessor  "  of  sound  orthodox  principles,"  was  filled  by  a  man  distmguished 
for  his  supposed  and  midisclaimed  Unitarianism,  which  gave  rise  to  the 
retii'ing  of  one  of  the  indignant  professors,  and  caused  to  rage  more 
madly  than  before  the  sea  of  strife.  In  1810  the  presidency  of  the  col- 
lege was  given  to  one  who  was  a  fine  scholar,  but  who  spurned  whatever 
was  mysterious  in  religion,  and  opened  his  academic  career  by  attending 
a  ball  which  was  given  by  the  students.    Dr.  Dwight  did  not  hesitate  to 

*  See  Eliot's  Ordination  Sermon  in  IT 54. 


3(34  THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT. 

say  of  Boston  this  same  year,  that  "  Unitarianisni  seemed  to  be  the  pre- 
dominating system."  A  few  years  later,  but  two  churches  in  that  city 
adhered  to  the  orthodox  standard.  But  it  is  to  be  observed  that  here 
was  its  chief  seat ;  for,  according  to  the  best  data,  the  Unitarian  minis- 
ters of  all  Massachusetts  were  not  more  than  seventy-five,  while  the 
orthodox  were  more  than  two  hundred.  It  should  also  be  borne  in 
mind,  that  this  wonderfiil  change  in  doctrinal  belief  was,  at  this  time, 
almost  wholly  confined  to  the  New  England  States. 

The  preachmg  of  the  period  now  brought  imder  review  was  remark- 
able for  other  peculiarities  besides  its  doctrinal  aspect,  properly  so  called. 
At  first,  it  dropped  out,  by  degrees,  the  clear  annunciation  of  those 
principles  of  revelation  which  are  repugnant  to  the  natural  heart,  and 
became  smooth  and  deceptive.  Truth,  instead  of  being  set  forth  in  a 
bold,  explicit  manner,  was  dealt  out  cauHoushj,  and  was  softened  down, 
or  concealed,  lest  it  should  excite  opposition.  Sermons  were  barren  of 
evangelical  sentiment  and  feeling ;  and  if  doctrines  were  preached,  they 
were  not  jDresented  in  their  fullness,  and  in  their  legitimate  bearings,  so 
as  to  arouse  the  heart  and  the  conscience,  and  humble  the  sinner  in  the 
dust  before  God.  How  natural  the  next  step — to  regard  these  doctrines 
as  of  Uttle  practical  importance — and  the  next,  wholly  to  reject  them !  Of 
course,  there  were  many  and  brilliant  exceptions ;  but,  to  a  wide  extent, 
the  pulpit,  at  the  time  of  wliich  we  speak,  taught  chiefly  those  lessons 
of  morality  which  are  founded  upon  such  general  truths  of  natural  re- 
ligion, and  such  facts  of  evangehcal  history,  as  had  never  been  ques- 
tioned by  any  one  claiming  the  name  of  a  Christian.  Indeed,  it  dared 
not  venture  much  further  ;  for  the  fear  lest  freedom  of  thovght  should 
be  fettered,  and  lest  something  should  be  received  which  could  not  be 
fully  comprehended^  had  so  long  operated  as  to  destroy  the  sense  of 
certainty  in  the  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures,  and  lead  to  the  simple 
exposition  of  the  rules  of  upright  life,  and  the  acknowledged  truths  of 
revelation. 

But  we  turn  with  pleasure  to  the  brighter  side  of  the  American  pul- 
pit. The  defection  which  we  have  traced  was  not  suffered  to  go  forward 
without  powerful  counteracting  influences.  The  first  of  the  influences 
which  we  name,  was  a  glorious  revival  of  religion  ;  beginning  in  1790, 
in  Dr.  Baldmn's  church,  Boston  ;  and  soon  spreading  into  Dr.  Stillman's, 
and  thence  into  Rev.  Mr.  Thacher's,  and  many  other  congregations. 
In  the  year  1795  Dr.  Dwight  came  to  the  presidency  of  Yale  College. 
From  that  time,  the  churches  began  to  be  conversant  "with  a  higher 
order  of  preaching.  The  young  men,  who  took  upon  themselves  the 
mold  of  their  instructor,  were  soon  upon  the  stage,  exerting  their  ele- 
vating hifluence.  The  sermons  and  lectures  of  President  Dwight  upon 
the  evidences  and  doctrines  of  revelation,  did  much  to  dissipate  the 
thick  and  heavy  atmosphere  of  doubt,  and  reveal  the  temple  of  truth 
as  unshaken  as  ever,  in  spite  of  the  fearful  assaults  of  error.     The  SjDirit 


THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT.  ggg 

of  God  also  came  down  upon  the  college  and  the  surrounding  churches 
anomting  afresh  and  greatly  multiplying  the  ministers  of  salvation,  and 
awakening  an  evangelical  spirit  in  every  direction.  The  sentuiients  of 
Roger  Williams,  as  to  the  entire  freedom  of  the  churches  from  civil 
connection  and  control,  had  come  to  be  generally  adopted.  Shortly 
after  the  Revolution,  the  union  of  Church  and  State  in  the  Southern 
States — the  Episcopal  havmg  been  the  established  order — came  to 
an  end.  It  was  brought  about,  mainly,  by  the  Baptists  and  Presby- 
terians, aided  by  Jefferson.  The  separation  was  not  complete  in  Co7i- 
necticut  untU  1816;  and  in  3fassachusetts  not  imtil  1833.  It  is  also 
worthy  of  note  that  an  orthodox  Magazine,  the  "  Panoplist,"  had  arisen — 
and,  at  a  later  date,  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Pilgruns" — and  was  doing  faithful 
service  in  the  cause  of  truth.  The  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover, 
also,  had  sprung  mto  being ;  and  the  muffled  step  of  the  innovating 
bands  had  felt  itself  compelled  to  halt,  as  if  it  had  stumbled,  all  at  once, 
on  the  unseen  outposts  of  a  hidden  battalion.  Just  at  this  time,  too,  a 
few  young  Elijahs  had  "  prayed  mto  existence  the  embryo  of  American 
missions,"  and  in  1810  declared  their  intention  to  go  far  hence  to  the 
Gentiles.  The  foundmg  of  the  different  boards  of  missions  and  other 
benevolent  institutions — the  glory  of  our  age — was  as  the  resurrection 
of  the  ministers  and  churches  to  a  new  existence. 

From  that  day  to  this,  the  American  pulpit  has  rapidly  gained  in 
efficiency.  Fervor,  intelhgence,  and  life,  began  to  breathe  through  the 
ministrations  of  the  sanctuary.  With  the  disruption  in  the  New  Eng- 
land chm-clies,  when  each  pastor  took  a  distinct  position,  either  on  the 
side  of  the  Orthodox,  or  of  Unitarians,  came  additional  strength.  Many 
a  hard  battle  was  afterward  fought  by  the  champions  of  the  two  sys- 
tems, but  generally  with  the  result  of  revealing  a  wider  distinction  be- 
tween their  views,  and  making  it  more  apparent  that  the  real  question 
at  issue  was,  whether  revealed  or  natural  religion  was  to  be  our  guide 
and  hope.  Meanwhile,  the  great  heart  of  the  community,  unsatis- 
fied with  a  religion  of  cold  and  barren  generalities,  was  panting  to 
see  once  more,  "  the  reconciling  cross  and  the  incarnate  God."  Age, 
and  change,  and  death  had  plucked  away  many  of  the  jewels  that  ght- 
tered  in  the  crown  of  the  liberal  religion,  and  the  congregations  of 
the  evangelical  belief  increased,  while  those  of  the  opposite  faith  de- 
cayed. Preaching  became,  year  by  year,  more  thoroughly  Biblical 
and  powerful  in  its  character.  There  was  less  of  time-serving,  and  lax 
accommodation :  and  far  more  of  that  clearness  and  force,  that  cogency 
of  argument,  and  closeness  and  fervency  of  appeal,  which  is  blessed  to 
the  building  up  of  the  churches  in  holiness  and  purity  and  love. 

The  present  number  of  ministers,  actually  engaged  in  preaching,  in 
the  United  States,  in  connection  with  the  different  Evangelical  de- 
nominations, is  upward  of  twenty-eight  thousand.  They  are  thus  dis- 
tributed :  Protestant  Episcopal,  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty- 


366  THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT. 

two ;  Congregational,  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  forty-eight ;  Bap- 
tist, eight  thousand  five  hundred  and  twenty-five;  Presbyterian,  Old 
and  New  school,  including  also  the  Reformed  Dutch,  Associate  and 
Cumberland  Presbyterians,  German  Reformed,  etc.,  five  thousand  nine 
hundred  and  forty-one ;  Methodist,  in  the  several  branches,  eight  thou- 
sand three  hundred  and  eighty-nme.  The  Moravians,  Mennonites,  etc., 
include  also,  many  faithfid  preachers.  The  number  of  Unitarian  clergy- 
men, at  the  present  time,  is  about  two  hundred  and  sixty.* 

The  American  clergy,  as  a  body,  are  laborious,  earnest,  mtelligent, 
faithful,  and  God-fearmg  men.  In  no  country  is  the  ministry  more  re- 
spected or  more  influential.  There  never  was  a  more  groundless  assertion 
than  that  of  a  foreign  Journal,  which  charged  them  with  being  "  timid, 
backward,  time-serving,  self-exiled,  and  blind  to  their  noble  mission."f 
There  is,  doubtless,  room  for  improvement.  In  the  opinion  of  some, 
so  far  as  the  great  object  of  preaching  is  concerned,  the  American  pul- 
pit is  not  on  the  advance,  but  on  the  other  hand,  becoming  more  ineffi- 
cient. All  will  agree  that  a  more  deeply  spiritual,  self-forgetful,  urgent, 
eficctive  ministry  is  loudly  called  for.  But  if  the  essentials  of  good 
preaching  are  instructiveness,  w^armth,  energy,  dignity,  boldness,  ten- 
derness, pathos,  chaste  language,  and  high  spirituaHty,  then  is  the  pul- 
pit of  the  United  States,  as  a  whole,  second  to  that  of  no  country  on 
the  globe.  Every  thing  favors  such  preaching.  Our  Academic,  Col- 
legiate, and  Theological  Institutions  take  rank  with  the  best  of  those  in 
other  countries  ;  so  that  ministers  need  not  be  deficient  in  sound  learn- 
ing. The  incubus  of  no  State-church  establishment  hangs  upon  us. 
Our  common  schools  educate  the  public  mind  and  render  necessary  an 
intelligent  ministry.  The  instincts  of  the  American  i^eople,  and  the 
genius  of  our  free  institutions,  tend  to  fi-eedom  of  inquiry  and  a  wide 
range  of  knowledge.  The  masses  read,  and  inquire,  and  investigate, 
and  discxiss,  and  vote,  and  make  laws,  and  think  for  themselves.  That 
the  pulpit  influences  such  a  people  is  proof  of  its  power. 

The  style  of  preaching  is  far  from  uniform.  The  planters  of  New 
England,  as  before  remarked,  did  not,  ordmarily,  write  out  in  full  their 
discourses,  though  this  was  often  the  case.  The  custom  became  more 
common  in  after-years  among  the  Congregational  churches,  where  it 
has  since  almost  universally  obtained.  With  the  ministers  of  the  Pres- 
byterian, Reformed  Dutch,  and  Episcopalian  churches,  the  habit  of  fully 
writing  out  their  discourses  also  prevails.     With  those  of  the  Baptist 

*  "U'e  have  adopted  the  statistics  of  Dr.  Baird,  in  his  statement  as  to  Religion  in 
America,  made  to  the  Evangchcal  Alliance  in  Paris,  1855.  He  includes  among  the  Bap- 
tist ministers  some  fifteen  hundred  who  are  not  properly  so  called.  He  also  does  rot 
embrace  in  the  Methodists,  some  twelve  thousand  "local  preachers,"  and  eight  hundred 
superannuated  ministers.  In  all  the  denominations  there  are  many  ministers  not 
engaged  in  preaching :  such  as  professors,  editors,  secretaries,  etc. 

\  British  and  Foreign  Magazine,  1840. 


THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT.  367 

denomination  it  is  becoming  quite  common,  especially  in  the  New  En- 
gland and  Middle  States.  The  IMethodist  clergy  almost  universally  adhere 
to  the  extemporaneous  form  of  address.  The  expository  method  of  ser- 
monizmg,  though  often  practiced,  does  not  prevail  in  this  country,  to 
the  extent  that  could  be  desired.  The  habit  of  distributing  the  subject 
into  its  natural  parts,  and  announcmg  the  heads  and  divisions,  is  very 
general. 

The  preaching  of  the  American  pulpit  may  be  said  to  be  rather 
practical  and  experimental  than  doctrinal.  The  formal  discussion  of 
Sci'ipture  doctrines  is  certainly  less  fi-equent  at  the  present  time,  than 
in  the  age  of  the  Puritans,  and  during  the  first  quarter  of  this  century. 
The  argumentative  feature,  partly  by  consequence,  is  also  less  promi- 
nent. But  the  American  school  of  pulpit  eloquence  is  less  oratorical,  im- 
aginative, and  impassioned  than  that  of  the  German  or  French,  though 
far  more  soUd  and  mstructive.  It  patterns  somewhat  closely  to  the 
English  and  Scottish  school ;  where  passion  is  thought  to  be  uncalled  for, 
or  at  least  not  essential,  since  religion  is  powerful  and  majestic  of  itself, 
and  needs  only  to  be  explained  to  the  understanding.  This  is  true, 
however,  of  the  preaching  of  some  denominations  to  a  far  greater  ex- 
tent than  of  others.  Perfection  lies,  we  should  say,  in  the  blendmg  of 
the  warmth,  brilliancy,  energy,  and  pathos  of  the  French  and  German 
style,  with  the  solidity,  depth,  and  masculine  strength  of  the  Scottish 
and  English  school.  Perhaps  it  is  not  presumption  to  say,  that  the  pul- 
pit of  no  country  approximates  more  nearly  to  this  standard  of  excel- 
lence, than  the  American. 

The  pulpit  of  the  United  States  is  already  rich  in  the  productions 
which  it  has  given  to  the  world.  Recent  as  is  its  date,  it  has  afforded 
many  examples  of  the  highest  order  of  preaching.  In  the  sermons  of 
the  men  of  no  age  or  country,  are  to  be  found  finer  models  of  pure 
classic  style,  of  manly  eloquence,  of  sober,  instructive  thought,  and  of 
earnest  appeals,  adapted  to  arouse  the  conscience  of  the  transgi-essor,  or 
warm  the  heart  of  the  believer,  than  in  the  discourses  of  Edwards,  and 
Davies,  and  Emmons,  and  Dwight,  and  Buckmmster,  and  Maxcy,  and 
Grifiin,  and  01m,  and  Mason,  and  Bedell,  and  others,  not  to  name  any 
of  the  divines  now  living.  It  should  also  be  observed  that  many  elo- 
quent preachers  have  left  little  or  nothing  behind  them  in  the  form  of 
printed  sermons. 

In  all  that  adorns  the  character  of  the  servants  of  Jesus  Christ ;  in  all 
that  ensures  the  approbation  of  God,  and  the  power  of  the  Di-sdne  f^jiirit ; 
and  in  all  that  sanctifies,  enriches  and  elevates  the  race,  may  the  future 
of  the  American  pulpit  be  not  unworthy  of  the  past ! 


DISCOURSE     SIXTY.FIFTH. 

THOMAS    HOOKER. 

The  "  father  of  the  Connecticut  churches"  was  born  about  the  year 
1580,  in  Marfield,  Leicestershire,  England,  and  educated  at  Emmanuel 
College,  Cambridge.  After  teaching  and  preaching  some  time  with  great 
success,  he  was  silenced  for  non-conformity,  and  in  1630  was  obliged  to 
flee  to  Holland.  In  1633,  he  came  to  New  England  in  company  with  Mr. 
Cotton  and  Mr.  Stone,  and  settled  at  first,  near  Boston,  Massachusetts.  In 
1636,  he  removed  with  a  few  others  to  a  fertile  spot  on  the  banks  of  the 
Connecticut  river,  which  they  called  Hartford;  having  traveled  through 
the  "wdlderness  with  no  other  guide  than  a  compass.  Here  he  had  great 
influence  in  establishing  the  colony.  He  died  in  16-f7.  Some  of  his 
sermons  were  sent  to  England  and  pubHshed. 

Cotton  Mather,  in  his  "  Magnalia,"  calls  Hooker  "  the  Light  of  the 
"Western  churches ;  and  the  pillar  of  the  Connecticut  colony."  His 
preaching,  he  says,  "  was  notably  set  ofl"  with  a  liveliness  extraordinary." 
Judging  from  the  few  specimens  of  his  preaching  which  we  have  seen, 
we  should  estimate  his  powers  as  quite  remarkable.  His  language  is 
pure  Saxon,  and  his  style  clear,  direct,  and  convincing.  The  first  part 
of  the  sermon  we  have  selected,  where  he  jDroves  his  subject  negatively^ 
is  omitted  from  its  very  great  length.  It  is  copied  from  an  old  volume 
of  his  sermons,  bearing  date,  London,  1651.     It  remmds  one  of  Baxter. 


THE  ACTIVITY  OF  FAITH ;  OE,  ABRAHAM'S  IMITATORS. 

"And  the  father  of  circumcision  to  them  who  are  not  of  circumcision  only,  but  also 
walk  in  the  steps  of  that  faith  of  our  father  Abraham,  which  ho  had,  being  yet  uncir- 
cumcized." — Romans,  iv.  12. 

I  proceed  now  to  show  who  those  are,  that  may,  and  do  indeed, 
receive  benefit  as  Abraham  did.  The  text  saith,  "  They  that  walk 
in  the  steps  of  that  faith  of  Abraham  :"  that  man  that  not  only  en- 


THE    ACTIYITT    OF    FAITH.  359 

joyeth  the  privileges  of  the  Churcli,  but  yieldeth  tlie  obedience  of 
faitb,  according  to  tlie  Word  of  God  revealed,  and  walketh  in  obe- 
dience, that  man  alone  shall  be  blessed  with  faithful  Abraham, 

Two  points  may  be  here  raised,  but  I  shall  hardly  handle  them 
both  ;  therefore  I  will  pass  over  the  first  only  with  a  touch,  and  that 
lieth  closely  couched  in  the  text. 

That  Faith  causeih  fruitfuhiess  in  the  hearts  and  lives  of  those  in 
whom  it  is. 

Mark  what  I  say,  a  faithful  man,  is  a  fruitful  man ;  faith 
enableth  a  man  to  be  doing.  Ask  the  question,  by  what  power  was 
it  whereby  Abraham  was  enabled  to  yield  obedience  to  the  Lord  ? 
The  text  answereth  you,  "  They  that  walk  in  the  footsteps"  not  of 
Abraham,  but  "  in  the  footsteps  of  the  faith  of  Abraham."  A  man 
would  have  thought  the  text  should  have  run  thus :  They  that  walk 
in  the  footsteps  of  Abraham.  That  is  true,  too,  but  the  apostle  had 
another  end ;  therefore  he  saith,  "  They  that  walk  in  the  footsteps  of 
the  faith  of  Abraham,"  implying,  that  it  was  the  grace  of  faith  that 
God  bestowed  on  Abraham,  that  quickened  and  enabled  him  to 
every  duty  that  God  required  of  him,  and  called  him  to  the  perform- 
ance of.  So  that  I  say,  the  question  being,  whence  came  it  that 
Abraham  was  so  fruitful  a  Christian,  what  enabled  him  to  do  and  to 
suffer  what  he  did?  surely  it  was  faith  that  was  the  cause  that  pro- 
duced such  effects,  that  helped  him  to  perform  such  actions.  The 
point  then  you  see  is  evident,  faith  is  it  that  causeth  fruit. 

Hence  it  is,  that  of  almost  all  the  actions  that  a  Christian  hath  tO' 
do,  faith  is  still  said  to  be  the  worker.  If  a  man  pray  as  he  should^, 
it  is  "the  prayer  of  faith."  If  a  man  obey  as  he  should,  it  is  the 
obedience  of  faith.  If  a  man  war  in  the  Church  militant,  it  is  "  the 
fight  of  faith."  If  a  man  live  as  a  Christain  and  holy  man,  he 
"  liveth  by  faith."  Nay,  shall  I  say  yet  more,  if  he  did  as  he  ought, 
"  he  dieth  by  faith."  "  These  all  died  in  faith."  What  is  that  ? 
The  power  of  faith  that  directed  and  ordered  them  in  the  cause  of 
their  death,  furnished  them  with  grounds  and  principles  of  assurance 
of  the  love  of  God,  made  them  carry  themselves  patiently  in  death. 
I  can  say  no  more,  but  with  the  apostle,  "  Examine  yourselves, 
whether  ye  be  in  the  faith."  Why  doth  not  the  apostle  say.  Exam- 
ine whether  faith  be  in  you,  but  "  whether  ye  be  in  the  faith?"  His 
meaning  is,  that  as  a  man  is  said  to  be  in  drink,  or  to  be  in 
love,  or  to  be  in  passion,  that  is,  under  the  command  of  drink, 
or  love,  or  passion  ;  so  the  whole  man  must  be  under  the  command  of 
faith  (as  you  shall  see  more  afterward).  If  he  prays,  faith  must  indite 
his  prayer ;  if  he  obey,  faith  must  work ;  if  he  live,  it  is  faith  that 

24 


370  THOMAS    HOOKER. 

must  quicken  liim ;  and  if  he  die,  it  is  faitli  that  must  order  him  in 
death.  And  wheresoever  faith  is,  it  will  do  wonders  in  the  soul  of 
that  man  where  it  is,  it  can  not  be  idle  ;  it  will  have  footsteps^  it  sets 
the  whole  man  on  work  ;  it  moveth  feet,  and  hands,  and  eyes,  and 
all  parts  of  the  body.  Mark  how  the  apostle  disputeth :  "  "We 
having  the  same  spirit  of  faith,  according  as  it  is  written,  I  believed, 
and  therefore  have  I  spoken,  we  also  believe,  and  therefore  speak." 
The  faith  of  the  apostle,  which  he  had  in  his  heart,  set  his  tongue 
a  going.  If  a  man  have  faith  within,  it  will  break  forth  at  his 
mouth.  This  shall  suffice  for  the  proof  of  the  point ;  I  thought  to 
have  pressed  it  further,  but  if  I  should,  I  see  the  time  would  pre- 
vent me. 

The  use,  therefore,  in  a  word,  is  this  :  if  this  be  so,  then  it  falleth 
foul,  and  is  a  heavy  bill  of  indictment  against  many  that  live  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Church.  Go  thy  ways  home,  and  read  but  this  text, 
and  consider  seriously  but  this  one  thing  in  it :  That  whosever  is 
the  son  of  Abraham,  hath  faith,  and  whosoever  hath  faith,  is 
a  walker,  is  a  marker ;  by  the  footsteps  of  faith  you  may  see  where 
faith  hath  been.  Will  not  this,  then,  I  say,  fall  marvelous  heavy 
upon  many  souls  that  live  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church,  who  are 
confident,  and  put  it  out  of  all  question,  that  they  are  true  believers, 
,and  make  no  doubt  but  what  they  have  faith  ?  But  look  to  it, 
wheresoever  faith  is,  it  is  fruitful.  If  thou  art  fruitless,  say  what 
thou  wilt,  thou  hast  no  faith  at  all.  Alas,  these  idle  drones,  these 
idle  Christians,  the  Church  is  too  full  of  them  !  Men  are  continually 
hearing,  and  yet  remain  fruitless  and  unprofitable  ;  whereas  if  there 
were  more  faith  in  the  world,  we  should  have  more  work  done  in 
the  world ;  faith  would  set  feet,  and  hands,  and  eyes,  and  all  on 
work.  Men  go  under  the  name  of  professors,  but  alas !  they  are  but 
pictures  ;  they  stir  not  a  whit ;  mark,  where  you  found  them  in  the 
beginning  of  the  year,  there  you  shall  find  them  in  the  end  of  the 
year,  as  profane,  as  worldly,  as  loose  in  their  conversations,  as 
formal  in  duty  as  ever.  And  is  this  faith  ?  0  I  faith  would  work 
other  matters,  and  provoke  a  soul  to  other  passages  than  these. 

But  you  will  say,  may  not  a  man  have  faith,  and  not  that  fruit 
you  speak,  of?  May  not  a  man  have  a  good  heart  to  Godward,  al- 
though he  can  not  find  that  ability  in  matter  of  fruitfulness? 

My  brethren,  be  not  deceived ;  such  an  opinion  is  a  mere  delusion 
of  Satan  ;  wherever  faith  is  it  bringeth  Christ  into  the  soul ;  mark 
that,  "  Whosoever  believeth,  Christ  dwelleth  in  his  heart  by  faith. 
And  if  Christ  be  in  you,"  saith  the  apostle,  "the  body  is  dead,  be- 
cause of  sin,  but  the  spirit  is  life,  because  of  righteousness."     If 


THE    ACTIVITY    OP    FAITH.  371 

Christ  be '  in  j^ou,  that  is,  whosoever  believeth  in  the  Lord  Jesus, 
Christ  dwells  in  such  a  man  bj  faith  ;  now  if  Christ  be  in  the  soul, 
the  body  can  not  be  dead ;  but  a  man  is  alive,  and  quick,  and  active 
to  holy  duties,  ready,  and  willing,  and  cheerful  in  the  performance 
of  whatsoever  God  requireth,  Christ  is  not  a  dead  Saviour,  nor  the 
Spirit  a  dead  Spirit :  the  second  Adam  is  made  a  quickening 
spirit.  And  wherever  the  spirit  is,  it  works  effects  suitable  to  itself. 
The  spirit  is  a  spirit  of  purity,  a  spirit  of  zeal,  and  where  it  is  it 
maketh  pure  and  zealous.  When  a  man  will  say  he  hath  faith,  and 
in  the  mean  time  can  be  content  to  be  idle  and  unfruitful  in  the 
work  of  the  Lord,  can  be  content  to  be  a  dead  Christian,  let  him 
know  that  his  case  is  marvelously  fearful :  for  if  faith  were  in  him 
indeed  it  would  appear ;  ye  can  not  keep  your  good  hearts  to  your- 
selves ;  wherever  fire  is  it  will  burn,  and  wherever  faith  is  it  can  not 
be  kept  secret.  The  heart  will  be  enlarged,  the  soul  quickened,  and 
there  will  be  a  change  in  the  whole  life  and  conversation,  if  ever 
faith  takes  place  in  a  man,  I  will  say  no  more  of  this,  but  proceed 
to  the  second  point  arising  out  of  the  affirmative  part. 

You  will  say,  what  fruit  is  it  then  ?  Or  how  shall  a  man  know 
what  is  the  true  fruit  of  faith,  indeed,  whereby  he  may  discern  his 
own  estate  ?  I  answer,  the  text  will  tell  you :  "  He  that  walketh  in 
the  footsteps  of  that  faith  of  Abraham."  Vtj  footsteps  are  meant  the 
works,  the  actions,  the  holy  endeavors  of  Abraham ;  and  where  those 
footsteps  are  there  is  the  faith  of  Abraham.  So  that  the  point  of 
instruction  hence  is  thus  much  (which  indeed  is  the  main  drift  of 
the  apostle), 

That,  Every  faithful  man  may^  yea  doth  imitate  the  options  of  faith- 
ful Abraham. 

Mark  what  I  say  ;  I  sa}^  again,  this  is  to  be  the  son  of  Abraham, 
not  because  we  are  begotten  of  him  by  natural  generation,  for  so 
the  Jews  are  the  sons  of  Abraham ;  but  Abraham  is  our  father  be- 
cause he  is  the  pattern  for  the  proceeding  of  our  faith.  "  Thy  father 
was  an  Amorite,"  saith  the  Scripture  :  that  is,  thou  followest  the  steps 
of  the  Amorites  in  thy  conversation.  So  is  Abraham  called  the 
"father  of  the  faithful,"  because  he  is  the  copy  of  their  course, 
whom  they  must  follow  in  those  services  that  God  calleth  for.  So 
the  point  is  clear,  every  faithful  man  may,  yea  doth,  and  must  imi- 
tate the  actions  of  faithful  Abraham.  It  is  Christ's  own  plea,  and 
He  presseth  it  as  an  undeniable  truth  upon  the  hearts  of  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees,  that  bragged  very  highly  of  their  privileges  and  pre- 
rogatives, and  said,  "  Abraham  is  oui-  father."  No,  saith  Christ,  "  If 
ye  were  Abraham's  children  ye  would  do  the  works  of  Abraham." 


^'j2  THOMAS    HOOKER. 

To  be  like  Abraliam  in  constitution,  to  be  one  of  his  blood,  is  not 
tbat  wliicli  makes  a  man  a  son  of  Abraliam,  but  to  be  like  liim  in 
holiness  of  affection,  to  have  a  heart  framed  and  a  life  disposed  an- 
swerablj  to  his.  The  apostle  in  like  manner  presseth  this  point 
when  he  would  provoke  the  Hebrews,  to  whom  he  wrote,  to  follow 
the  examples  of  the  Saints :  "  Whose  faith  (says  he)  follow,  con- 
sidering the  end  of  their  conversation."  So  the  Apostle  Peter  press- 
eth the  example  of  Sarah  upon  all  good  women  :  "  Whose  daughter 
ye  are  (saith  he)  as  long  as  ye  do  well." 

For  the  opening  of  the  point,  and  that  ye  may  more  clearly  un- 
derstand it,  a  question  here  would  be  resolved,  what  were  "  the  foot- 
steps of  the  faith  of  Abraham  ?"  which  way  went  he  ?  This  is  a 
question,  I  say,  worthy  the  scanning,  and  therefore  (leaving  the 
further  confirmation  of  the  point,  as  being  already  evident  enough) 
I  will  come  to  it  that  so  you  may  know  what  to  pitch  and  settle 
your  hearts  upon. 

I  answer,  therefore,  there  are  six  footsteps  of  the  faith  of  Abra- 
ham, which  are  the  main  things  wherein  every  faithful  man  must  do 
as  Abraham  did,  in  the  work  of  faith — I  mean  in  his  ordinary  course ; 
for  if  there  be  any  thing  extraordinary  no  man  is  bound  to  imitate 
him  therein ;  but  in  the  works  of  faith,  I  say,  which  belongeth  to  all 
men,  every  man  must  imitate  Abraham  in  these  six  steps,  and  then 
he  is  in  the  next  door  to  happiness,  the  very  next  neighbor;  as  I  may 
say,  to  heaven. 

The  first  step  which  Abraham  took  in  the  ways  of  grace  and 
happiness,  you  shall  observe  to  be  a  yielding  to  the  call  of  God. 
Mark  what  God  said  to  Abraham :  "  Get  thee  out  of  thy  country, 
and  from  thy  kindred,  and  from  thy  father's  house,  unto  a  land  that 
I  will  show  thee  ;  and  Abraham  departed,"  saith  the  text,  "  as  the 
Lord  had  spoken  unto  him,"  even  when  he  was  an  idolater;  he  is 
content  to  lay  aside  all  and  let  the  command  of  God  bear  the  sway  ; 
neither  friends,  nor  kindred,  nor  gods  can  keep  him  back,  but  he 
presently  stoopeth  to  the  call  of  God.  So  it  is,  my  brethren,  with 
every  faithful  man.  This  is  his  first  step  :  he  is  contented  to  be  under 
the  rule  and  power  of  God's  command.  Let  the  Lord  call  for  him, 
require  any  service  of  him,  his  soul  presently  yieldeth,  and  is  con- 
tent to  be  framed  and  fashioned  to  God's  call,  and  returneth  an  obe- 
dient answer  thereto ;  he  is  content  to  come  out  of  his  sins,  and  out 
of  himself,  and  to  receive  the  impressions  of  the  Spirit.  This  is 
that  which  God  requireth,  not  only  of  Abraham,  but  of  all  believers  : 
"  Whosoever  will  be  my  disciple  (saith  Christ)  must  forsake  father, 
and  mother,  and  children,  and  houses,  and  lands ;  yea,  and  he  must 


THE    ACTIVITY    OF    FAITH.  373 

deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  and  follow  Me."  This  is  the 
first  step  in  Christianity,  to  lay  down  our  own  honors,  to  trample 
upon  our  own  respects,  to  submit  our  necks  to  the  block,  as  it  were, 
and  whatever  God  commands,  to  be  content  that  His  good  pleasure 
should  take  place  with  us.        *        *        "* 

The  next  step  that  Abraham,  and  so  every  faithful  soul,  sets  for- 
ward, is  this  :  that  whenever  faith  cometh  powerfully  into  the  heart, 
the  soul  is  not  content  barely  to  yield  to  the  command  of  God,  but 
it  breatheth  after  His  mercy,  longeth  for  His  grace,  prizeth  Christ 
and  salvation  above  all  things  in  the  world,  is  satisfied  and  contented 
with  nothing  but  with  the  Lord  Christ,  and  although  it  partake  of 
many  things  below,  and  enjoy  abundance  of  outward  comforts,  yet 
it  is  not  quieted  till  it  rest  and  pitch  itself  upon  the  Lord,  and  find 
and  feel  that  evidence  and  assurance  of  his  love,  which  He  hath 
promised  unto  and  will  bestow  on  those  who  love  Him.  As  for  all 
things  here  below,  he  hath  but  a  slight,  and  mean,  and  base  esteem 
of  them.  This  you  shall  see  apparent  in  Abraham.  "  Fear  not, 
Abraham  (saith  God),  I  am  thy  shield,  and  thy  exceeding  great  re- 
ward." What  could  a  man  desire  more  ?  One  would  think  that  the 
Lord  makes  a  promise  here  large  enough  to  Abraham,  "  I  will  be 
thy  buckler,  and  exceeding  great  reward."  Is  not  Abraham  con- 
tented with  this  ?  No  ;  mark  how  he  pleadeth  with  God  :  "  Lord 
God  (saith  he),  what  wilt  Thou  give  me,  seeing  I  go  childless  ?"  His 
eye  is  upon  the  promise  that  God  had  made  to  him  of  a  son,  of  whom 
the  Saviour  of  the  world  should  come.  "  Oh  Lord,  what  wilt  Thou 
give  me?"  as  if  he  had  said,  What  wilt  Thou  do  for  me  ?  alas !  noth- 
ing will  do  my  soul  good  unless  I  have  a  son,  and  in  him  a  Saviour. 
What  will  become  of  me  so  long  as  I  go  childless,  and  so  Saviour- 
less,  as  I  may  so  speak  ?  You  see  how  Abraham's  mouth  was  out 
of  taste  with  all  other  things,  how  he  could  relish  nothing,  enjoy 
nothing  in  comparison  of  the  promise,  though  he  had  otherwise  what 
he  would,  or  could  desire.  Thus  must  it  be  with  every  faithful  man. 
That  soul  never  had,  nor  never  shall  have  Christ,  that  doth  not  prize 
Him  above  all  things  in  the  world.         *         *         * 

The  third  step  of  Abraham's  faith  was  this,  he  casteth  himself  and 
flingeth  his  soul,  as  I  may  say,  upon  the  all-sufi&cient  power  and 
mercy  of  God  for  the  attainment  of  what  he  desireth ;  he  rolleth  and 
tumbleth  himself,  as  it  were,  upon  the  all-sufiiciency  of  God.  This 
you  shall  find  in  Rom.  iv.  18,  there  saith  the  apostle,  speaking  of 
Abraham,  who  "against  hope,  believed  in  hope;"  that  is,  when  there 
was  no  hope  in  the  world,  yet  he  believed  in  God,  even  above  hope, 
and  so  made  it  possible.     It  was  an  object  of  his  hope,  that  it  might 


374  THOMAS    HOOKER. 

be  in  regard  of  God,  howsoever  there  was  no  possibility  in  regard  of 
man.  So  the  text  saith,  "  he  considered  not  his  own  body  now  dead, 
when  he  was  about  an  hundred  years  old,  neither  yet  the  deadness 
of  Sarah's  womb,  but  was  strong  in  faith."  He  cast  himself  wholly 
upon  the  precious  promise  and  mercy  of  God. 

This,  then,  is  the  third  step  of  true  justifying  faith,  that  when  the 
believer  is  informed  touching  the  excellency  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and 
that  fullness  that  is  to  be  had  in  Him,  though  he  can  not  find  the 
sweetness  of  His  mercy,  though  he  can  not  or  dare  not  apprehend 
and  apply  it  to  himself,  though  he  find  nothing  in  himself,  yet  he  is 
still  resolved  to  rest  upon  the  Lord,  and  to  stay  himself  on  the  God 
of  his  salvation,  and  to  wait  for  His  mercy  till  he  find  Him  gracious 
to  his  poor  soul.  Excellent  and  famous  is  the  example  of  the  woman 
of  Canaan.  When  Christ,  as  it  were,  beat  her  off,  and  took  up  arms 
against  her,  was  not  pleased  to  reveal  Himself  graciously  to  her  for 
the  present,  "  I  am  not  sent  (saith  He),  but  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the 
house  of  Israel ;  and  it  is  not  meet  to  take  the  children's  bread,  and 
to  cast  it  to  the  dogs :"  mark  how  she  replied,  "  Truth,  Lord,  I  con- 
fess all  that ;  yet  notwithstanding,  the  dogs  eat  of  the  crumbs  that 
fall  from  their  master's  table."  Oh,  the  excellency,  and  strength,  and 
work  of  her  faith !  She  comes  to  Christ  for  mercy,  He  repelleth  her, 
reproacheth  her,  tells  her  she  is  a  dog ;  she  coufesseth  her  baseness, 
yet  is  not  discouraged  for  all  that,  but  still  resteth  upon  the  goodness 
and  mercy  of  Christ,  and  is  mightily  resolved  to  have  mercy  what- 
soever befalleth  her.  Truth,  Lord,  I  confess  I  am  as  bad  as  Thou 
canst  term  me,  yet  I  confess,  too,  that  there  is  no  comfort  but  from 
Thee,  and  though  1  am  a  dog,  yet  I  would  have  crumbs.  Still  she 
laboreth  to  catch  after  mercy,  and  to  lean  and  to  bear  herself  upon 
the  favor  of  Christ  for  the  bestowing  thereof  upon  her.  So  it  must 
be  with  every  faithful  Christian  in  this  particular  ;  he  must  roll  him- 
self upon  the  power,  and  faithfulness,  and  truth  of  God,  and  wait  for 
His  mere}',  (I  will  join  them  both  together  for  brevity's  sake,  though 
the  latter  be  a  fourth  step  and  degree  of  faith)  ;  I  say  he  must  not 
only  depend  ujDon  God,  but  he  must  wait  upon  the  Holy  One  of 
Israel. 

The  fifth  step  of  Abraham's  faith  appeared  in  this  ;  He  counted 
liothing  too  dear  for  the  Lord ;  he  was  content  to  break  through  all  im- 
pediments, to  pass  through  all  difi&culties,  whatsover  God  would  have, 
he  had  of  Him.  This  is  the  next  step  that  Abraham  went ;  and  this 
you  shall  find  when  God  put  him  upon  the  trial.  The  text  saith  there 
"that  God  did  tempt  Abraham,"  did  try  what  he  would  do  for  Him, 
and  He  bade  him,  "  Go,  take  thy  son,  thine  only  son,  Isaac,  whom  thou 


THE    ACTIVITY    OP    FAITH.  375 

lovest,  and  slay  liim ;"  and  straight  Abraham  ^yent  and  laid  his  son 
upon  an  altar,  and  took  a  knife,  to  cut  the  throat  of  his  son — so  that 
Abraham  did  not  spare  his  son  Isaac,  he  did  not  spare  for  any  cost, 
he  did  not  dodge  with  God  in  this  case ;  if  God  would  have  any 
thing.  He  should  have  it,  whatsoever  it  were,  though  it  were  his  own 
life,  for  no  question  Isaac  was  dearer  to  him  than  his  own  life.  And 
this  was  not  his  case  alone,  but  the  faithful  people  of  God  have  ever 
walked  the  same  course.  The  Apostle  Paul  was  of  the  same  spirit, 
"  I  know  not  (saith  he)  the  things  that  shall  befall  me,  save  that  the 
Holy  Ghost  witnesseth  in  every  city,  saying,  that  bonds  and  afSictions 
abide  me :  but  none  of  these  things  move  me,  neither  count  I  my  life 
dear  unto  myself,  so  that  I  might  finish  my  course  with  joy,  and  the 
ministry  which  I  have  received  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  to  testify  the  Gos- 
pel of  the  grace  of  God."  O  blessed  spirit !  here  is  the  work  of  faith. 
Alas  !  when  we  come  to  part  with  any  thing  for  the  cause  of  God, 
how  hardly  comes  it  from  us  !  "  But  I  (saith  he)  pass  not,  no,  nor 
is  my  life  dear  unto  me."  Here,  I  say,  is  the  work  of  faith,  indeed, 
when  a  man  is  content  to  do  any  thing  for  God,  and  to  say  if  impris- 
onment, loss  of  estate,  libertj^,  life,  come,  I  pass  not,  it  moveth  me  noth- 
ing, so  I  may  finish  my  course  with  comfort.  Hence  it  was  that  the 
saints  of  God  in  those  primitive  times  "  took  joyfully  the  spoiling  of 
their  goods."  Methinks  I  see  the  saints  there  reaching  after  Christ 
with  the  arms  of  faith,  and  how,  when  any  thing  lay  in  their  way, 
they  were  content  to  lose  all,  to  part  with  all  to  have  Christ.  There- 
fore saith  Saint  Paul,  "  I  am  ready  not  to  be  bound  only,  but  also  to 
die  at  Jerusalem  for  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus."  Mark,  rather  than 
he  would  leave  his  Saviour,  he  would  leave  his  life,  and  though  men 
would  have  hindered  him,  yet  was  resolved  to  have  Christ,  howso- 
ever, though  he  lost  his  life  for  Him.  Oh,  let  me  have  my  Saviour, 
and  take  my  life ! 

The  last  step  of  all  is  this :  when  the  soul  is  thus  resolved  not  to 
dodge  with  God,  but  to  part  with  any  thing  for  Him,  then  in  the 
last  place  there  followeth  a  readiness  of  heart  to  address  man's  self 
to  the  performance  of  whatsoever  duty  God  requireth  at  his  hands ; 
I  say  this  is  the  last  step,  when,  without  consulting  with  flesh  and 
blood,  without  hammering  upon  it,  as  it  were,  without  awkwardness 
of  heart,  there  followeth  a  prestness  to  obey  God,  the  soul  is  at  hand. 
When  Abraham  was  called  "  Behold  (saith  he)  here  I  am."  And  so 
Samuel,  "  Speak,  Lord,  for  Thy  servant  heareth,"  and  so  Annias, 
"  Behold,  I  am  here.  Lord."  The  faithful  soul  is  not  to  seek,  as  an 
evil  servant  that  is  gone  a  roving  after  his  companions,  that  is  out  of 
the  way  when  his  master  would  use  him,  but  is  like  a  trusty  servant 


376  THOMAS    HOOKER. 

that  waiteth  upou  his  master,  and  is  ever  at  hand  to  do  his  pleasure. 
So  you  shall  see  it  was  with  Abraham,  when  the  Lord  commanded 
him  to  go  out  of  his  country,  "  he  obeyed,  and  went  out,  not  know- 
ing whither  he  went ;"  he  went  cheerfully  and  readily,  though  he 
knew  not  whither ;  as  who  should  say,  if  the  Lord  calls,  I  will  not 
question,  if  He  command  I  will  perform,  whatever  it  be.  So  it  must 
be  with  every  faithful  soul — we  must  blind  the  eye  of  carnal  reason, 
resolve  to  obej^,  though  heaven  and  earth  seem  to  meet  together  in 
a  contradiction,  care  not  what  man  or  what  devil  saith  in  this  case, 
but  what  God  will  have  done,  do  it ;  this  is  the  courage  and  obe- 
dience of  faith.  See  how  Saint  Paul,  in  the  place  before  named, 
flung  his  ancient  friends  from  him,  when  they  came  to  cross  him  in 
the  work  of  his  ministry.  They  all  came  about  him,  and  because 
they  thought  they  should  see  his  face  no  more,  they  besought  him 
not  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem.  Then  Paul  answered,  "  What  mean  ye  to 
weep,  and  to  break  my  heart  ?"  as  who  should  say.  It  is  a  grief  and  a 
vexation  to  my  soul,  that  ye  would  burden  me,  that  I  can  not  go 
with  readiness  to  perform  the  service  that  God  requireth  at  my 
hands.  The  like  Christian  courage  was  in  Luther  when  his  friends 
dissuaded  him  to  go  to  Worms :  "  If  all  the  tiles  in  Worms  were  so 
many -devils  (said  he)  yet  would  I  go  thither  in  the  name  of  my 
Lord  Jesus."     This  is  the  last  step. 

Now  gather  up  a  little  what  I  have  delivered.  He  that  is  re- 
solved to  stoop  to  the  call  of  God ;  to  prize  the  promises,  and  breathe 
after  them  ;  to  rest  upon  the  Lord,  and  to  wait  His  time  for  bestow- 
ing mercy  upon  him ;  to  break  through  all  impediments  and  difficul- 
ties, and  to  count  nothing  too  dear  for  God ;  to  be  content  to  per- 
form ready  and  cheerful  obedience ;  he  that  walketh  thus,  and  tread- 
eth  in  these  steps,  peace  be  upon  him  ;  Heaven  is  hard  by  ;  he  is  as 
sure  of  salvation  as  the  angels  are ;  it  is  as  certain  as  the  Lord  liveth 
that  he  shall  be  saved  with  faithful  Abraham^  for  he  walketh  in  the 
steps  of  Abraham,  and  therefore  he  is  sure  to  be  where  he  is.  The 
case,  you  see,  is  clear,  and  the  point  evident,  that  every  faithful  man 
may,  and  must,  imitate  faithful  Abraham. 

It  may  be  here  imagined,  that  we  draw  men  up  to  too  high  a 
pitch ;  and,  certainly,  if  this  be  the  sense  of  the  words,  and  the 
meaning  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  this  place,  what  will  become  of  many 
that  live  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church  ?  Will  you  therefore  see  the 
point  confirmed  by  reason  ?  The  ground  of  this  doctrine  stands 
thus  :  every  faithful  man  hath  the  same  faith,  for  nature  and  for 
"work,  that  Abraham  had  ;  therefore,  look  what  nature  his  faith  was 
of,  and  what  power  it  had ;  of  the  same  nature  and  power  every 


THE    ACTIVITY    OF    FAITH.  377 

true  believer's  faitli  is.  Briefly  thus  :  tlie  promises  of  God  are  tlie 
ground  upon  wliicli  all  true  faith  resteth  ;  the  Spirit  of  God  it  is 
that  worketh  this  faith  in  all  believers ;  the  power  of  the  Spirit  is 
that  that  putteth  forth  itself  in  the  hearts  and  lives  of  all  the  faith- 
ful ;  gather  these  together :  if  all  true  believers  have  the  same  prom- 
ises for  the  ground  of  their  faith ;  have  one  and  the  same  spirit  to 
work  it ;  have  one  and  the  same  power  to  draw  out  the  abilities  of 
faith,  then  certainly  they  can  not  but  have  the  very  self-same  ac- 
tions, having  the  very  self-same  ground  of  their  actions. 

Every  particular  believer  (as  the  Apostle  Peter  saith)  "  hath  ob- 
tained the  like  precious  faith."  Mark,  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
copper  faith  in  the  world — much  counterfeit  believing ;  but  the  saints 
do  all  partake  of  "  the  like  precious  faith."  As  when  a  man  hath 
but  a  sixpence  in  silver,  or  a  crown  in  gold,  those  small  pieces,  for 
the  nature,  are  as  good  as  the  greatest  of  the  same  metal ;  so  it  is 
with  the  faith  of  God's  elect.  And  look  as  it  is  in  grafting  ;  if  there 
be  many  scions  of  the  same  kind  grafted  into  one  stock,  they  all 
partake  alike  of  the  virtue  of  the  stock;  just  so  it  is  here.  The 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  the  stock,  as  it  were,  into  which  all  the  faithful 
are  grafted  by  the  Spirit  of  God  and  faith  ;  therefore,  whatsoever 
fruit  one  beareth,  another  beareth  also  :  howsoever,  there  may  be 
degrees  of  works,  yet  they  are  of  the  same  nature.  As  a  little 
apple  is  the  same  in  taste  with  a  great  one  of  the  same  tree,  even  so 
every  faithful  man  hath  the  same  holiness  of  heart  and  life,  because 
he  hath  the  same  principle  of  holiness.  The  fruit  indeed  that  one 
Christian  bringeth  may  be  but  poor  and  small  in  comparison  of 
others,  yet  it  is  the  same  in  kind  ;  the  course  of  his  life  is  not  with 
so  much  power  and  fullness  of  grace,  it  may  be,  as  another's,  yet 
there  is  the  same  true  grace,  and  the  same  practice,  in  the  kind  of  it, 
for  truth,  however  in  degree  it  differ.         *         *         * 

Let  us  now  come  to  see  what  benefit  we  may  make  to  ourselves 
of  this  point,  thus  proved  and  confirmed ;  and,  certainly,  the  use  of 
this  doctrine  is  of  great  consequence.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  a  just 
ground  of  examination.  For  if  it  be  true  (as  it  can  not  be  denied, 
the  reasons  being  so  strong,  and  arguments  so  plain)  that  every  son 
of  Abraham  followeth  the  steps  of  Abraham,  then  here  you  may 
clearly  perceive  who  it  is  that  hath  saving  faith  indeed,  who  they 
be  that  arc  true  saints  and  the  sons  of  Abraham.  By  the  light  of 
this  truth,  by  the  rule  of  this  doctrine,  if  you  would  square  your 
courses,  and  look  into  your  conversations,  you  can  not  but  discern 
whether  you  have  faith  or  no.  That  man  whose  faith  showeth  itself 
and  putteth  itself  forth  in  its  several  conditions,  agreeably  to  the 


378  THOMAS    HOOKER. 

faith,  of  Abraham,  that  man  that  foUoweth  the  footsteps  of  the  faith 
of  Abraham,  let  him  be  esteemed  a  faithful  man,  let  him  be  reckoned 
for  a  true  believer. 

But  if  any  man's  faith  do  not  this,  but  be  contrary  unto,  or  fall 
short  of  this,  in  the  truth  (I  say  not  in  the  measure)  of  it,  certainly 
it  is  a  counterfeit,  it  is  copper  faith.  0  the  world  of  counterfeit  faith, 
then,  that  is  in  the  Church  at  this  day !  It  was  the  complaint  of  our 
Saviour  Christ,  that  "  when  He  should  come,  He  should  scarce  find 
faith  on  the  earth,"  as  if  He  should  say.  It  will  be  so  little  and 
scarce,  that  one  shall  hardly  know  where  to  find  a  faithfal  man.  It 
was  the  complaint  of  the  Psalmist  of  old,  and  is  most  true  of  these 
times,  that  "  the  faithful  fail  from  among  the  children  of  men." 
Many  a  man  "hath  a  name  that  he  is  alive,  and  yet  is  dead."  Many 
have  a  fancy  of  faith,  yet  upon  the  trial  we  shall  find  that  there  are 
but  few,  even  of  those  that  are  interested  in  the  title  of  Christians, 
and  live  in  the  bosom  of  the  .Church,  that  have  any  right  or  title  to 
the  Lord  Jesus,  and  the  promises  of  God  revealed  in  the  Church. 
Let  us  try  a  few.  And  first,  this  falleth  marvelous  heavy  upon  and 
casteth  out  all  ignorant  persons,  that  were  never  enlightened,  never 
quickened,  never  had  their  minds  informed,  touching  Christ  and  the 
promises.  Alas !  they  know  not  what  faith  meaneth,  and  what 
Christ  meaneth  ;  and  how  can  these  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  the 
faith  of  Abraham,  when  they  never  saw  the  way  of  Abraham  ? 
But  let  them  go  ;  my  heart  pitieth  them  ;  I  rather  choose  to  grapple 
with  those  who  think  themselves  in  a  better  estate  and  condition. 

And  the  first  of  this  rank  are  profane  persons,  those  that  live  and 
lie  in  sin,  in  Sabbath-breaking,  swearing,  drunkenness,  adultery,  and 
the  like.  The  case  of  such  is  clear  and  evident :  these  are  so  far 
from  treading  in  the  steps  of  Abraham  that  they  hate  purity,  and 
holiness,  and  goodness.  And  as  for  these,  if  any  such  be  here,  let 
them  not  be  deceived,  but  let  me  tell  them  out  of  God's  word,  that  as 
yet  have  not  faith,  as  yet  they  are  not  the  sons  of  Abraham.  What 
they  may  be  I  know  not ;  I  leave  them  to  the  Lord,  and  wish  them 
a  sight  and  apprehension  of  their  own  condition,  and  that  they  may 
be  brought  out  of  that  gall  of  bitterness  wherein  they  are  ;  but  as 
yet,  I  dare  say  they  are  not  the  sons  of  Abraham.       *       *       * 

Let  me  go  further,  and  you  shall  see  more  than  these  cut  off  from 
being  the  sons  of  Abraham ;  and  surely,  if  Abraham  should  come 
down  from  heaven,  he  might  complain  that  there  were  very  few  of 
his  sons  to  be  found  upon  the  earth.  In  the  next  place,  therefore, 
take  a  taste  of  the  civilized  professors,  such  as  are  not  as  other  men ; 
no  common  swearers,  no  profaners  of  the  Sabbath,  no  drunkards, 


THE-  ACTIVITY    OF    FAITH.  379 

and  the  like.  These  men  think  that  they  go  near  indeed  to  the 
steps  of  Abraham,  yet  give  me  leave  to  scan  these  a  little,  I  pray, 
and  to  try  them. 

Abraham  (you  know)  did  not  stick  with  God  when  He  called 
him,  but  was  content  to  be  under  the  command  of  God,  and  to  yield 
to  Him  in  every  thing.  Take  now  one  that  hath  not  the  power  of 
godliness  in  his  heart ;  he  keepeth,  it  may  be,  his  fingers  from  filch- 
ing and  stealing,  abstains  from  the  gross  acts  of  sin,  and  from  open 
profaneness  ;  but  what  strength  of  grace  is  there  in  his  soul  ?  What 
mortification  shall  you  find  of  his  secret  lust  ?  What  subduing  of 
sin  within  ?  Alas !  ask  him  what  ruleth  him,  at  whose  command 
he  is,  at  whose  call  he  cometh :  I  appeal  to  the  souls  and  consciences 
of  all  such  men ;  the  command  of  God  calleth,  and  covetousness 
calleth,  which  of  these  is  followed  ?  The  Lord  saith  to  the  world- 
ling. Come  out  of  thy  counting-house,  and  go  to  prayer,  come  and 
hear  My  word  ;  the  Lord  calls  to  the  gentlemen,  Forsake  thy  pleas- 
ures and  thy  sports,  and  humble  thyself  in  sackcloth  and  ashes ; 
the  Lord  calleth  for  these  things,  the  times  call  for  them — who  is 
obeyed  ?  Whose  commands  do  you  stoop  unto  ?  Is  there  any 
command  disobeyed  but  God's  ?  If  a  man  presume  on  any,  it  is  on 
the  Lord.  Profits,  pleasures,  worldly  business,  must  be  attended, 
whether  the  Lord  be  pleased  or  no,  or  whether  the  duties  He  re- 
quireth  be  performed  or  no. 

You  that  are  gentlemen  and  tradesmen,  I  appeal  to  your  souls 
whether  the  Lord  and  His  cause  is  not  the  loser  this  way.  Doth  not 
prayer  pay  for  it  ?  Doth  not  the  Word  pay  for  it  ?  Are  not  the 
ordinances  always  losers  when  any  thing  of  your  own  cometh  in 
competition  ?  Is  it  not  evident,  then,  that  you  are  not  under  the 
command  of  the  Word?  How  do  you  tremble  at  the  wrath  and 
threatenings  of  a  mortal  man  ?  and  yet,  when  you  hear  the  Lord 
thunder  judgments  out  of  His  Word,  who  is  humbled?  When  He 
calls  for  fasting,  and  weeping,  and  mourning,  who  regards  it? 
Abraham,  my  brethren,  did  not  thus  ;  these  were  none  of  his  steps  ; 
no,  no  :  he  went  a  hundred  miles  off  this  course.  The  Lord  no 
sooner  said  to  him,  "  Forsake  thy  country  and  thy  kindred,  and  thy 
father's  house,"  but  he  forsook  all,  neither  friend  nor  father  prevailed 
to  detain  him  from  obedience,  but  he  stooped  willingly  to  God's 
command. 

There  are  yet  a  third  sort  that  come  short  of  being  the  sons  of 
Abraham,  and  they  are  the  close-hearted  hypocrites.  These  are  a 
generation  that  are  of  a  more  refined  kind  than  the  last,  but  howso- 
ever they  carry  the  matter  very  covertly,  yea,  and  are  exceeding 


380  THOMAS    HOOKER. 

cunning ;  yet  the  truth  will  make  them  known.  Many  a  hypocrite 
may  come  thus  far,  to  be  content  to  part  with  any  thing,  and  out- 
wardly to  suffer  for  the  cause  of  God,  to  part  with  divers  pleasures 
and  lusts,  and  to  perform  many  holy  services.  But  here  is  the  dif- 
ference between  Abraham  and  these  men :  Abraham  forsook  his 
goods  and  all,  but  your  close-hearted  hypocrites  have  always  some 
god  or  other  that  they  do  homage  to,  their  ease,  or  their  wealth,  or 
some  secret  lust,  something  or  other  they  have  set  up  as  an  idol 
within  them,  and  so  long  as  they  may  have  and  enjoy  that,  they 
will  part  with  any  thing  else.  But  thou  must  know,  that  if  thou  be 
one  of  Abraham's  children,  thou  must  come  away  from  thy  gods, 
thy  god  of  pride,  of  self-love,  of  vain-glory,  and  leave  worshiping 
of  these,  and  be  content  to  be  alone  by  God  and  His  truth.  This 
shall  suffice  for  the  first  use ;  I  can  not  proceed  further  in  the  press- 
ing thereof,  because  I  would  shut  up  all  with  the  time. 

The  second  use  is  a  word  of  instruction,  and  it  shall  be  but  a 
word  or  two ;  that  if  all  the  saints  of  God  must  walk  in  the  same 
way  of  life  and  salvation  that  Abraham  did,  then  there  is  no  by-way 
to  bring  a  man  to  happiness.  Look,  what  way  Abraham  went,  you 
must  go  ;  there  is  no  more  ways  :  the  same  course  that  he  took  must 
be  a  copy  for  you  to  follow,  a  rule,  as  it  were,  for  you  to  square 
your  whole  conversation  by.  There  is  no  way  but  one  to  come  to 
life  and  happiness.  I  speak  it  the  rather  to  dash  that  idle  device  of 
many  carnal  men,  that  think  the  Lord  hath  a  new  invention  to  bring 
them  to  life,  and  that  they  need  not  go  the  ordinary  way,  but  God 
hath  made  a  shorter  cut  for  them.  Great  men  and  gentlemen  think 
God  will  spare  them.  What,  must  they  be  humbled,  and  fast,  and 
pray  ?  That  is  for  poor  men,  and  mean  men.  Their  places  and  estates 
will  not  suffer  it ;  therefore  surely  God  hath  given  a  dispensation  to 
them.  And  the  poor  men,  they  think  it  is  for  gentlemen  that  have 
more  leisure  and  time :  alas,  they  live  by  their  labor,  and  they  must 
take  pains  for  what  they  have,  and  therefore  they  can  not  do  what 
is  required.  But  be  not  deceived ;  if  there  be  any  way  beside  that 
which  Abraham  went,  then  will  I  deny  myself  But  the  case  is 
clear,  the  Lord  saith  it,  the  Word  saith  it ;  the  same  way,  the  same 
footsteps  that  Abraham  took,  we  must  take,  if  ever  we  will  come 
where  Abraham  is. 

You  must  not  balk  in  this  kind,  whoever  you  are ;  God  respect- 
eth  no  man's  person.  If  you  would  arrive  at  the  same  haven,  you 
must  sail  through  the  same  sea.  You  must  walk  the  same  way  of 
grace,  if  you  would  come  to  the  same  kingdom  of  glory.  It  is  a 
conceit  that  harboreth  in  the  hearts  of  many  men,  nay,  of  most  men 


THE    ACTIVITY    OF    FAITH.  381 

in  general,  especially  your  great  wise  men  and  your  great  ricli  men, 
that  have  better  places  and  estates  in  the  world  than  ordinary. 
"What,  think  they,  may  not  a  man  be  saved  without  all  this  ado  ? 
"What  needs  all  this  ?  Is  there  not  another  way  besides  this  ?  Surely, 
my  brethren,  you  must  teach  our  Saviour  Christ  and  the  Apostle 
Paul  another  way.  I  am  sure  they  never  knew  another ;  and  he  that 
dreameth  of  another  way  must  be  content  to  go  beside.  There  is  no 
such  matter  as  the  devil  would  persuade  you  ;  it  is  but  his  delusion 
to  keep  you  under  infidehty,  and  so  shut  you  up  to  destruction  under 
false  and  vain  conceits.  The  truth  is,  here  is  the  way,  and  the  only 
way,  and  you  must  walk  here  if  ever  you  come  to  life  and  happi- 
ness. Therefore,  be  not  deceived,  sufier  not  your  eyes  to  be  bhnded ; 
but  know,  what  Abraham  did,  you  must  do  the  same,  if  not  in  ac- 
tion, yet  in  affection.  If  God  say.  Forsake  all,  thou  must  do  it,  at 
least  in  affection.  Thou  must  still  wait  upon  His  power  and  provi- 
dence ;  yield  obedience  to  Him  in  all  things ;  be  content  to  submit 
thyself  to  His  will.  Tliis  is  the  way  you  must  walk  in,  if  you  ever 
come  to  heaven. 

The  last  use  shall  be  a  use  of  comfort  to  all  the  saints  and  peo- 
ple of  God,  whose  consciences  can  witness  that  they  have  labored 
to  walk  in  the  uprightness  of  their  heart  as  Abraham  did.  I  have 
two  or  three  words  to  speak  to  these. 

Be  persuaded  out  of  the  word  of  God,  that  your  course  is  good, 
and  go  on  with  comfort,  and  the  God  of  heaven  be  with  you ;  and 
be  sure  of  it,  that  you  that  walk  with  Abraham  shall  be  at  rest  with 
Abraham  ;  and  it  shall  never  repent  3-0U  of  all  the  pains  that  you 
have  taken.  Haply  it  may  seem  painful  and  tedious  to  you ;  yet, 
what  Abigail  said  to  David,  let  me  say  to  you:  "Oh,"saith  she, 
"  let  not  my  lord  do  this :  when  the  Lord  shall  have  done  to  my 
lord  according  to  all  the  good  that  He  hath  spoken  concerning 
thee,  and  shall  have  appointed  thee  ruler  over  Israel,  this  shall  be 
no  grief  unto  thee,  nor  offense  of  heart,  that  thou  hast  shed  blood 
causeless,  or  that  my  lord  hath  avenged  himself"  My  brethren, 
let  me  say  to  you.  You  will  find  trouble  and  inconveniences,  and 
hard  measure  at  the  hands  of  the  wicked  in  this  world.  Many  Na- 
bals  and  Cains  will  set  themselves  against  you ;  but  go  on,  and  bear 
it  patiently.  Know  it  is  a  troublesome  way,  but  a  true  way ;  it  is 
grievous  but  yet  good ;  and  the  end  will  be  happy.  It  will  never 
repent  you,  when  the  Lord  hath  performed  all  the  good  that  He 
hath  spoken  concerning  you. 

Oh !  to  see  a  man  drawing  his  breath  low  and  short,  after  he 
hath  spent  many  hours  and  days  in  prayer  to  the  Lord,  grappling 


382  THOMAS    HOOKER, 

witli  his  corruptions,  and  striving  to  pull  down  liis  base  lusts ;  after 
he  hath  waited  upon  the  Lord  in  a  constant  course  of  obedience. 
Take  but  such  a  man,  and  ask  him,  now  his  conscience  is  opened, 
whether  the  ways  of  holiness  and  sincerity  be  not  irksome  to  him, 
whether  he  be  not  grieved  with  himself  for  undergoing  so  much 
needless  trouble  (as  the  world  thinks  it) ;  and  his  soul  will  then  clear 
this  matter.  It  is  true  he  hath  had  a  tedious  course  of  it,  but  now 
his  death  will  be  blessed.  He  hath  striven  for  a  crown,  and  now  be- 
holds a  crown.  Now  he  is  beyond  the  waves.  All  the  contempts,  and 
imprisonments,  and  outrages  of  wicked  men,  are  now  too  short  to 
reach  him.  He  is  so  far  from  repenting,  that  he  rejoiceth  and  tri- 
umpheth  in  reflecting  back  upon  all  the  pains,  and  care,  and  labor 
of  love,  whereby  he  hath  loved  the  Lord  Jesus,  in  submitting  his 
heart  unto  Him. 

Take  me  another  man,  that  hath  lived  here  in  pomp  and  jollity, 
hath  had  many  livings,  great  preferments,  much  honor,  abundance 
of  pleasure,  yet  hath  been  ever  careless  of  God  and  of  His  word, 
profane  in  his  course,  loose  in  his  conversation,  and  ask  him  upon 
his  death-bed,  how  it  standeth  with  him.  Oh !  woe  the  time  that 
ever  he  spent  it  as  he  hath  done.  Now  the  soul  begins  to  hate  the 
man,  and  the  very  sight  of  him,  that  hath  been  the  instrument  with 
it  in  the  committing  of  sin.  Now  nothing  but  gall  and  wormwood 
remaineth.  Now  the  sweetness  of  the  adulterer's  lust  is  gone,  and 
nothing  but  the  sting  of  conscience  remaineth.  Now  the  covetous 
man  must  part  with  his  goods,  and  the  gall  of  asps  must  stick  be- 
hind. Now  the  soul  sinks  within,  and  the  heart  is  overwhelmed  with 
sorrow.  Take  but  these  two  men,  I  say,  and  judge  by  their  ends, 
whether  it  will  ever  repent  you  that  you  have  done  well,  that  you 
have  walked  in  the  steps  of  the  faith  of  Abraham. 

My  brethren,  howsoever,  you  have  had  many  miseries,  yet  the  Lord 
hath  many  mercies  for  you.  God  dealeth  with  His  servants,  as  a 
father  doth  with  his  son,  after  he  hath  sent  him  on  a  great  journey  to  do 
some  business ;  and  the  weather  falleth  foul,  and  the  way  proveth  dan- 
gerous, and  many  a  storm,  and  great  difficulties  are  to  be  gone  through. 
Oh,  how  the  heart  of  that  father  pitieth  his  son !  How  doth  he  re- 
solve to  requite  him,  if  he  ever  live  to  come  home  again.  What 
preparation  doth  he  make  to  entertain,  and  welcome  him ;  and  how 
doth  he  study  to  do  good  unto  him  !  My  brethren,  so  it  is  here ; 
I  beseech  you,  think  of  it,  you  that  are  the  saints  and  people  of 
God.  You  must  find  in  your  way  many  troubles  and  griefs  (and  we 
ought  to  find  them),  but  be  not  discouraged.  The  more  misery,  the 
greater  mercy.    God  the  Father  seeth  His  servants:  and  if  they 


THE    ACTIVITY    OF    FAITH. 


883 


suffer  and  endure  for  a  good  conscience,  as  His  eye  seeth  them,  so 
His  soul  pitietli  them.  His  heart  bleeds  within  Him  for  them  ;  that 
is,  He  hath  a  tender  compassion  of  them,  and  He  saith  within  Himself, 
Well,  I  will  requite  them  if  ever  they  come  into  My  kingdom ;  all 
their  patience,  and  care,  and  conscience  in  walking  in  My  ways,  I 
will  requite ;  and  they  shall  receive  a  double  reward  from  Me,  even 
a  crown  of  eternal  glory.  Think  of  these  things  that  are  not  seen ; 
they  are  eternal.  The  things  that  are  seen  are  temporal,  and  they 
will  deceive  us.  Let  our  hearts  be  carried  after  the  other,  and  rest  in 
them  forever ! 


DISCOURSE    SIXTY-SIXTH. 


COTTON     MATHER,     D.D. ,  F.  U.S. 

Mather  was  born  in  Boston  in  1663.  He  was  a  grandson  of  John 
Cotton.  In  1678  he.,  graduated  at  Harvard  College,  and  was  ordained 
collegiate  minister  of  the  North  Church,  in  Boston,  in  1684.  He  died 
in  Febi-uary,  1738.  Mather  was  a  man  of  great  learning;  and  so 
valual)le  did  he  consider  his  time  for  reading,  that  he  wrote  over  his 
study-door  "  be  short."  His  publications  amounted  to  three  hundred 
and  eighty-two,  many  of  which  were  small,  but  some  voluminous.  His 
"  Ecclesiastical  History  of  New  England,"  is  the  largest  of  those  pub- 
lished, in  seven  volumes,  folio. 

The  style  of  Mather  is  sprightly  and  poetic,  but  his  writings  are 
marred  by  puerilities  and  strange  conceits.  The  sermon  here  given  is 
copied  from  a  small  volume,  bearing  the  imprint  of  "  Boston,  in  New 
England,  1721."  It  was  preached  before  the  Commissioners  for  the 
Propagation  of  the  Gospel  among  the  American  Indians.  It  is  of  special 
interest  as  furnishing  a  specimen  of  preaching  in  the  age  succeeding  the 
time  of  the  giant-minded  planters  of  New  England,  and  before  the  era 
of  the  great  revivals. 


THE  JOYFUL  SOUND  OF  SALVATION. 

"Blessed  is  the  people  that  know  the  joyful  sound." — Psalm  Ixxxix.  15. 

There  was  a  direction  given  and  taken  in  the  old  Church  of  Israel, 
''  Make  thee  two  trumpets  of  silver,  that  thou  mayst  use  them  for 
the  calling  of  the  assembly."  By  the  sound  of  such  silver  trumpets, 
the  people  of  God  were  called  unto  the  employments  and  enjoy- 
ments oi  their  sacred  solemnities.  And  was  this  the  joyful  sound,  for 
which  the  people  that  heard  it,  are  now  pronounced  a  blessed  people? 
I  deny  not  the  reference  hereunto,  which  may  be  here  supposed. 


THE    JOYFUL    SOUND    OF    SALVATION.  335 

But  then,  we  will  suppose  a  further  intent  of  the  Iloly  Spirit,  by 
whom  the  Psalm  was  dictated.  He  may  intend  the  joj^ful  sound, 
which,  in  the  Gospel  and  the  institutions  thereof.  His  people  are 
blessed  withal.  And  accordingly,  it  will  be  no  wrong  unto  the  text, 
if  we  put  it  unto  the  use  of  supporting  this  doctrine. 

I.  Glorious  is  the  blessedness  of  the  people,  who  truly  know  the 
joyful  sound,  which  in  and  with  the  glorious  Gospel  of  the  blessed 
God,  and  the  institutions  thereof,  arrives  unto  us. 

In  the  Gospel,  and  the  ordinances  of  it,  there  is  a  joyful  sound, 
which  we  are  made  partakers  of.  A  true  knowledge  of  this  joyful 
sound,  will  render  the  peojjle  that  have  it,  a  Uessed people. 

Let  us  j^roceed  more  distinctly,  in  three  propositions,  to  consider 
what  we  have  before  us. 

First.  There  is  o.  joyful  sound,  which  is  to  be  beard  among  the  cbil- 
dren  of  men,  where  the  Gospel  is  published,  and  wliere  the  ordi- 
nances of  it  are  established.  The  sound  of  the  silver  trumpets 
whicb  entertained  the  ancient  Israelites,  in  and  for  their  solemn  as- 
semblies, was  no  less  typical  than  musical.  In  these  days  of  the  New 
Testament,  we  have  the  substance  of  the  instrumental  music,  whicb 
was  of  old  used  in  the  worship  of  God  ;  the  shadow  is  vanished 
away.  The  shadow  Avas  of  old  confined  unto  the  temple  ;  but  the 
substance  we  have  now  in  every  synagogue.  The  usage  of  instru- 
mental music  in  our  public  worship  of  God,  has  been  long  since  dis- 
relished among  His  faithful  people.  Justin  Martyr  long  ago  ex- 
ploded it.  Yea,  Aquineas,  himself,  as  late  or  less  than  five  hundred 
years  ago,  decried  it.  Indeed  it  was  one  of  the  last  things  which  the 
man  of  sin  introduced  into  the  worship  of  the  Saviour,  which  he 
had  already  filled  with  a  multitude  of  superstitions.  We  will  then, 
for  the  present,  look  on  the  Jewish  trumpets,  and  organs  too,  as  a 
part  of  the  abrogated  pedagogy.  Yea,  but  the  trumpets  of  the  Gospel, 
these  we  have  still  sounding  in  our  ears,  but  the  sound  has  diverse 
properties  assigned  unto  it,  whicb  it  will  be  proper  for  us  now  to 
take  notice  of. 

There  is  a  sound  in  the  Gospel,  and  the  ordinances  thereof;  and 
it  is,  first,  a  great  sound.  Oh  !  were  we  so  much  "  in  the  spirit  on  the 
Lord's  Lay,"  as  to  hear,  what  is  to  be  heard  in  the  Gospel  then 
brought  unto  us,  we  should  be  able  to  say,  I  heard  a  great  voice  as 
of  a  trumpet.  There  is  a  famous  prophecy :  "  The  great  trumpet 
shall  be  blown,  and  they  that  were  ready  to  perish,  shall  come  and 
worship  the  Lord."  Whatever  other  accomplishments  this  prophecy 
may  have,  it  is  very  gloriously  accomplished  in  the  proclamation 
whicb  our  Saviour  in  His  Gospel  makes  unto  us.     The  Gospel,  as 

25 


386  COTTON    MATHER. 

with  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  invites  the  sinners  ready  to  perish,  0 
come,  and  worship,  and  obey,  and  enjoy  the  Lord.  And  when  this 
great  trumpet  is  blown,  great,  great  is  the  sound  thereof.  The  sound 
of  the  trumpet  is  great  in  the  extent  of  it.  We  read,  "The  sound 
goes  into  all  the  earth."  In  less  than  forty  years,  it  reached  unto 
the  utmost  bounds  of  the  vast  Eoman  Empire ;  and  though  Satan 
seduced  numbers  of  miserables  into  America,  that  they  might  be  out 
of  its  hearing,  it  has  now  reached  hither  also.  The  silver  trumpets 
were  at  first  but  a  couple,  for  the  two  sons  of  Aaron ;  but  afterward, 
in  Solomon's  time,  we  find  an  hundred  and  twenty  silver  trumpets 
all  sounding  together.  Before  the  incarnation  of  our  Saviour,  His 
Gospel  was  heard  but  a  little  way.  Afterward,  it  sounded  far  and 
near,  and  the  Gospel  was  preaclted  unto  every  creature :  it  might  be 
said,  it  sounds  in  every  place.  The  sound  of  the  trumpet  is  also  great 
in  the  effect  of  it.  A  loud  sound,  indeed ;  so  loud,  as  to  awaken 
them  that  have  a  dead  sleep  upon  them  !  So  loud,  as  to  convey  life 
unto  them  that  lie  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins:  "The  hour  now 
is,  when  the  dead  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  and  live."  The 
sound  of  this  trumpet  fetches  back  the  lost  souls  of  all  the  elect  from 
the  power  of  Satan  unto  God.  They  are  not  silver  trumpets  that 
are  now  sounding  unto  us ;  but  they  are  saving  trumpets !  Faith 
comes,  the  love  of  God  comes,  the  love  of  our  neighbor  comes,  and 
the  foretaste  of  heaven  comes,  by  the  hearing  of  them.  What  are 
they,  but  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation. 

Secondly.  'Tis  a  good  sound  as  well  as  a  great  one.  No 
trumpets  can  give  so  good,  so  grateful,  so  lovely  a  sound  as  the 
trumpets  of  the  Gospel  do.  Fame  often  in  her  trumpet,  has  a 
sound,  which  may  not  be  relied  upon ;  but  every  trumpet  of  the 
Gospel  gives  a  sound,  of  none  but  faithful  sayings,  and  worthy  of 
all  acceptation.  We  are  told  :  "As  cold  water  to  a  thirsty  soul,  so 
is  good  news  from  a  far  country,"  In  the  trumpets  of  the  Gospel, 
we  have  the  sound  of  nothing  but  good  news  "from  a  far  country:" 
The  sound  which  we  hear  in  the  trumpets  of  the  Gospel,  is  what 
was  once  heard  from  the  mouth  of  an  angel:  "Behold  I  bring  you 
good  tidings  of  great  joy,  that  unto  you  there  is  born  a  Saviour." 
Wherever  the  Gospel  comes,  there  is  a  sound  of  this  tenor ;  good 
news  for  you  who  by  your  sins  have  the  face  of  God  hidden  from 
you ;  there  is  a  Jesus,  who  saves  His  people  from  their  sins.  Good 
news  for  you  who  have  the  wrath  of  God  abiding  on  you.  There 
is  a  Jesus,  who  delivers  from  the  wrath  to  come.  The  joyful  sound, 
which  here  distinguishes  a  blessed  people,  may  carry  some  allusion 
to  the  trumpets  of  jubilee,  heard  once  m  fifty  years  among  the  Is- 


THE    JOYFUL    SOUND    OP    SALVATION.  387 

raelites.  Once  in  fifty  years,  there  was  tbat  custom  observed- 
"  Then  shalt  thou  cause  the  trumpet  of  the  jubilee  to  sound,  and  ye 
shall  proclaim  liberty  throughout  the  land."  Certainly,  the  trum- 
pets of  September,  proclaiming  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord, 
made  a  very  good  sound  unto  the  poor  people  that  were  now  to  see 
a  release  from  various  miseries :  a  good  sound  unto  the  servants, 
who  were  now  to  call  for  and  to  take  up  their  indentures :  a  good 
sound  unto  tbe  debtors,  whose  mortgages  were  now  expired,  and 
whose  tenements  returned  unto  them.  Thus  where  the  Gospel 
arrives,  it  brings  a  jubilee  with  it.  It  proclaims  a  liberty  for  the 
captives  ;  a  redemption  for  the  miserable ;  a  recovery  of  what  we 
sinned  away.  'Tis  the  Gospel  of  peace ;  the  trumpets  of  the  Goe- 
pel,  are  trumpets  of  peace.  The  sound  of  these  trumpets  is,  a  rec- 
onciliation with  God  obtained  for  sinners ;  the  anger  of  God  now 
turned  away  from  those,  whom  He  was  once  angry  withal !  The 
trumpets  which  gave  the  law,  had  a  sound  that  was  trembled  at. 
The  guilty  sinner  hearing  those  trumpets,  may  have  it  said  of  him, 
a  dreadful  sound  is  in  his  ears.  The  sound  of  those  trumpets  is, 
Cursed  is  he  that  continued  not  in  all  things  to  do  them.  The  Gos- 
pel of  our  salvation,  this  is  a  much  more  pleasant  sound  than  so. 
The  sound  of  it  is  Grace !  Grace  !  The  grace  that  will  pardon  the 
penitent !  The  grace  that  will  quicken  the  impotent !  The  grace 
that  will  heal  them  that  languish  under  all  sorts  of  maladies ! 

No  wonder  then  if,  thirdly^  it  be  a  glad  sound,  when  we  find  it 
such  a  good  one.  A  joyful  sound  !  The  souls  that  are  effectually 
called  by  the  sound  of  the  Gospel,  how  joyful  does  it  render  them ! 
The  trumpets  of  the  Gospel  do  to  the  soul,  as  the  harps  of  David  did 
unto  Saul :  they  drive  away  the  evil  spirit  of  sorrow,  of  sadness  of  de- 
spair. The  Psalmist  could  say,  "  I  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me, 
Let  us  go  into  the  house  of  the  Lord."  The  trumpets  which  gave  a 
joyful  sound  unto  the  blessed  peojole,  had  this  among  other  inten- 
tions of  them,  they  were  for  the  calling  of  the  assembly.  Glad,  glad 
at  heart,  was  that  Israelite  indeed,  when  he  heard  the  trumpets  give 
that  call:  "Come  away  to  the  sacrifices!"  The  trumpets  of  the 
Gospel  call  us  to  those  appointments  of  God,  wherein  we  are  to 
glorify  Him  with  the  sacrifices  of  righteousness ;  and  how  glad 
will  a  sincere  Christian  be  of  such  invitations !  But  then,  in  these 
appointments  of  God,  what  is  it  we  meet  withal  ?  Enough  to  make 
us  "rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable,  and  full  of  glory!"  The  tenders 
of  a  Saviour,  a  powerful,  a  merciful,  and  only  Saviour,  are  here 
made  unto  us.  Oh,  the  joyful  sound  of  such  tenders !  The  prom- 
ises of  a  most  gracious  Covenant  are  here  brought  unto  us.     These 


388  COTTON    MATHER. 

very  great  and  precious  promises  ;  oli,  the  joyful  sound  of  tliem ! 
The  sound  of  these  promises  is,  Eejoice,  0  thou  saved  soul ;  God 
the  Father  is  thy  Friend  ;  God  the  Son  is  thy  Surety  for  good  ;  God 
the  Spirit  is  thy  Conductor  and  Comforter ;  be  of  good  cheer,  thy 
sins  are  forgiven  thee.  The  angels  are  thy  guardians,  thou  art  a 
temple  of  God.  God  will  make  all  things  work  together  for  thy 
good.  And  there  are  the  spiritual  blessings  of  the  heavenly  places 
reserved  for  thee !  Oh  !  joyful  sound !  How  reviving !  how  rav- 
ishing !  When  the  Gospel  was  preached  with  success :  "  There  was 
great  joy  in  the  city."  Well  might  there  be  so,  on  such  a  joyful 
sound!  How  joyful  is  the  soldier  when  the  trumpet  invites  him 
".to  the  spoil!  to  the  spoil !"  The  joyful  sound  of  the  Gospel  car- 
ries this  in  it :  else  it  had  not  been  said,  "  I  rejoice  at  Thy  word,  as 
one  that  findeth  great  spoil."  The  blessings  which  the  word  of  God 
lead  "US  to,  are  matchless  treasures.  What  a  joyful  sound  must  it  be 
that  leads  us  to  them ! 

n.  In  order  to  blessedness,  it  is  requisite,  not  only  that  we  have, 
but  also  that  we  know  the  joyful  sound,  which  is  brought  unto 
us  in  the  Gospel,  and  in  the  ordinances  of  it.  Indeed,  in  a  larger 
sense,  to  have  the  joyful  sound,  is  to  know  it.  A  people  that  have 
the  Gospel,  and  know  the  joyful  sound,  in  the  external  enjoyment 
of  it,  these  do  enjoy  a  rich  favor  of  God.  The  places  which  enjoy 
the  Scriptures  and  have  the  Church  state,  with  the  faith  and  order 
of  the  Gospel,  are  therein  highly  favored  of  the  Lord. 

Gideon's  fleece,  wet  with  the  dews  of  heaven,  when  the  ground 
all  about  is  dry,  has  a  singular  token  for  good  upon  it.  •  The  sound 
of  the  trumpets  which  proclaim  the  kingdom  of  God,  is  heard  in 
some  happy  lands,  while  others  are  left  unacquained  with  it :  even 
so,  righteous  Father,  because  it  pleases  Thee !  And  so  far  they  have 
a  singular  hajDpiness.  It  may  be  said  unto  them,  ' '  Blessed  are  your 
eyes,  for  they  see,  and  your  ears,  for  they  hear."  Such  a  people  are 
in  some  degree  the  favorites  of  heaven.  They  have  the  kingdom 
in  some  essay  of  it  among  them.  Where  the  trumpets  of  the  Gos- 
pel are  sounding,  we  may  say,  "  The  Lord  is  near."  Yea,  the  name 
of  that  City,  that  Country,  is  Jehovah  Shammah,  the  Lord  is 
there.  A  people  who  so  far  know  the  joyful  sound,  are  after  a  pe- 
culiar manner  known  by  the  King  of  heaven :  He  may  say  to  such : 
"You  only  have  I  known."  But  alas,  many  who  so  far  know  the 
joyful  sound,  may  after  all  come  to  "lie  down  in  sorrow."  They 
that  are  so  far  lifted  up  to  heaven,  may  be  thrown  down  to  hell 
after  all.  In  such  a  knowledge  of  the  joyful  sound,  as  will  render 
a  peoj^le  a  blessed  people,  there  is  more  implied  than  a  mere  hear- 


THE    JOYFUL    SOUND    OF    SALVATION.  389 

ing  of  it.  To  know  tlie  joyful  sound,  as  it  should  be  known,  is  to 
know  the  meaning  of  it,  the  value  of  it,  the  credit  of  it,  and  the 
power  of  it. 

First.  There  are  people  who  discern  the  joyful  sound.  The  silver 
trumpets  of  old,  were  distinct  and  signal  in  the  sound  thereof  The 
marches,  the  motions,  the  stands,  of  the  armies  passing  through  the 
wilderness,  were  directed  by  the  sound.  The  trumpets  of  the  Gos- 
pel give  orders  unto  us;  we  are  to  take  our  measures  from  their  joyful 
sound.  People  know  the  joyful  sound  when  they  understand  the 
Gospel,  and  perceive  the  mind  of  the  Lord.  There  are  those  under 
the  Gospel,  to  whom  our  Lord  says,  as  He  once  did  unto  His  diciples 
after  the  sermon  in  Matt.  xiii.  51,  "  Have  ye  understood  all  these 
things  ?"  And  they  can  reply,  "  Yea,  Lord  1"  We  may  say  con- 
cerning the  trumpets  of  the  Gospel,  as  was  of  old  said  concerning  the 
Pauline  epistles,  *'  There  are  in  them  some  things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood." But  there  are  people  who  do  competently  understand  them. 
They  readily  perceive  the  language  of  the  trumpets  about  the  whole 
mystery  of  Christ,  and  the  homage  that  we  owe  unto  Him ;  'tis  not 
a  strano;e  lano;ua2;e  unto  them. 

O  blessed  people,  who  so  know  the  joyful  sound !  We  remember 
the  speech  of  the  Pharisees,  about  the  people  which  know  not  the 
law — how  justly  to  be  spoken  about  the  people  who  know  not  the 
Gospel !  But  then,  blessed  the  people  who  do  know  it !  How  it 
thunders,  in  Isaiah,  xxvii.  11 !  It  is  a  people  of  no  understanding, 
therefore  He  that  made  them  will  not  have  mercy  on  them ;  He  that 
formed  them  will  show  them  no  favor.  ■  But  then,  on  the  other  side, 
a  joyful  people  that  understand  well  the  joyful  sound,  are  a  people 
that  God  has  much  mercy  for,  much  favor  for;  a  people  greatly 
blessed  of  the  Lord. 

Secondly.  There  are  people  who  esteem  the  joyful  sound.  They 
so  know  it  as  to  prize  it,  set  a  vast  price  upon  it.  In  the  Bible  words 
of  knowledge  do  sometimes  signify  affection  too.  Some  so  know  the 
joyful  sound  as  to  be  well  affected  unto  it ;  yea,  to  prefer  it  unto  their 
chiefest  joy.  There  are  people  who  had  rather  be  with  David,  where 
the}'-  may  hear  what  God  the  Lord  shall  say  unto  them  in  the  silver 
trumpets  of  the  Gospel,  than  be  with  Belshazzar,  at  a  bout  where 
golden  vessels  are  caroused  in.  They  count  no  melody  like  that 
which  is  to  be  heard  in  the  courts  of  the  Lord,  and  looking  on  the 
silver  ti^umpets,  they  say  as  he,  "  More  to  be  desired  are  they  than 
much  fine  gold."  They  will  strive  to  have  their  silver  trumpets 
with  them,  whatever  expense  of  silver  or  any  thing  else  it  puts  them 


390  COTTON    MATHEE. 

to.     They  begrudge  no  cost  for  it ;  are  patient,  tliougli  it  cost  tliem 
the  bread  of  adversity,  and  the  water  of  affliction. 

O  blessed  people  who  so  know  the  joyful  sound !  We  are  told, 
"  Great  peace  have  they  that  love  Thy  law."  If  the  trumpets  of  the 
Gospel  have  our  love,  they  will  then  speak  our  peace,  cause  our  peace. 
The  fruits  of  the  lips  that  blow  in  those  trumpets  are  peace,  peace, 
and  all  the  blessings  of  goodness  ! 

.  Thirdly.  There  are  people  who  believe  the  joyful  sound.  We 
read  of  the  good  seed  falling  into  good  and  honest  hearts ;  thus  there 
is  the  good  sound  coming  into  good  and  honest  ears.  There  are 
some  that  find  no  jars  in  the  sound  of  the  silver  trumpets ;  they  raise 
no  disputes  about  it ;  they  start  no  cavils  upon  it.  It  was  a  noble 
confession  of  faith,  "  I  worship  God,  believing  all  things  which  are 
written  in  the  law  and  the  prophets."  Thus  there  are  people  who 
live  unto  God,  and  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God ;  aud  it  is  be- 
cause they  believe  all  things  that  are  sounded  in  the  trumpets  of  the 
Gospel.  About  the  trumpets  that  sounded  on  Sinai,  it  was  the  per- 
suasion of  the  jDCople  in  all  after  ages ;  Lord,  thou  spakest  with  them 
from  heaven,  and  gavest  them  right  judgments.  Truly  in  the  trum- 
pets that  we  have  sounding  from  Zion,  we  have  the  Lord  speaking 
from  heaven  unto  us,  and  we  have  right  j  udgments  in  them.  This  is 
the  persuasion  of  the  people  that  know  right  judgments.  They  em- 
brace the  Gospel  with  reason  satisfied,  and  faith  established. 

0  blessed  people  who  so  know  the  joyful  sound !  The  unbeliever 
is  always  under  the  wrath  of  God.  The  portion  of  the  unbeliever  is 
forever  to  be  deprecated.  But  our  Lord  hath  assured  us,  "  Blessed 
are  they  that  have  believed." 

Fourthly.  There  are  people  who  obey  the  joyful  sound.  We  are 
informed,  "  He  that  saith,  I  know  Him,  and  keepeth  not  His  com- 
mandments, is  a  liar."  There  are  some  who  so  know  as  to  do :  they 
know  practically.  Their  knowledge  has  their  practice  conformed 
unto  it.  They  hear  the  trumpets  of  the  Gospel,  and  they  are  not  the 
self-deceivers  who  are  no  doers,  but  hearers  only.  When  the  sound 
of  the  silver  trumpets  is,  Eepair  among  them  who  have  listed  them- 
selves under  the  banner  of  their  Saviour :  then  these  people  come  and 
put  themselves  under  the  conduct  of  the  Lord,  who  is  an  ensign  for 
the  people.  If  the  sound  of  the  silver  trumpet  be.  Arm,  arm  your- 
selves against  the  adversaries  that  seek  to  devour  you :  then  these 
people  put  on  the  whole  armor  of  God.  If  the  sound  of  the  silver 
trumpet  be  fall  on.  Fall  on,  give  no  quarter  to  the  lusts  from  which 
you  have  your  wounds :  then  these  people  mortify  their  members 
which  are  upon  the  earth.     If  the  sound  of  the  silver  trumpets  be. 


THE  JOYFUL  SOUND  OP  SALVATION.        39I 

Eetreat,  retreat  out  of  tlie  reach  of  the  destroyer :  then  these  people 
abstain  firm  the  fleshy  lusts  which  war  against  their  souls. 

0  blessed  people,  who  so  know  the  joyful  sound !  It  is  one  of 
the  notes  in  the  silver  trumpets,  If  ye  know  these  things,  happy  are 
ye  if  ye  do  them.  And  one  of  the  Divine  heralds  that  carried  the 
silver  trumpets  through  the  world  has  assured  us,  "the  doer  of  the 
Word,  this  man  shall  be  blessed  in  his  deed." 

III.  The  blessedness  of  the  people  who  thus  know  this  joyful 
sound,  is  a  very  glorious  blessedness. 

A  most  considerable  article  of  the  blessedness  attending  a  people 
who  hear  the  silver  trumpets  of  the  Gospel,  and  pay  due  regards  unto 
them,  is  this :  they  shall  walk,  O  Lord,  in  the  light  of  Thy  counte- 
nance. A  gracious  preference  of  the  blessed  God  among  a  people 
accompanies  the  joyful  sound.  The  silver  trumpets  are  heard  no- 
where but  where  the  King  of  heaven  keeps  His  court.  There  are 
those  whose  ofl&ce  it  is  to  blow  in  the  silver  trumpets.  Unto  those 
our  Saviour  has  engaged  himself,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  always."  Will 
health,  and  wealth,  and  rest  among  a  people  make  a  blessed  people  ? 
'Tis  commonly  thought  so.  But  what  will  God  have  among  a  people  ? 
Oh,  blessed  that  people  w^hose  God  is  the  Lord,  and  who  have  a  gra- 
cious preference  of  God  among  them.  Even  such  are  the  people 
who  know  the  joyful  sound !  Where  the  Gospel,  with  the  ordinances 
of  it  are  well  settled,  maintained,  respected,  and  the  silver  trumpets 
well  sounded  among  a  people,  it  may  be  said,  as  in  Numbers  xxiii.  21, 
"  The  Lord  their  God  is  with  them,  and  the  shout  of  a  king  is  among 
them."  In  one  word  the  ordinances  of  the  Gospel  furnish  us  with 
opportunities  for  communion  with  God.  "  In  them  I  will  commune 
with  you,"  saith  the  Lord.  We  may  herein  draw  near  to  God,  God 
will  herein  draw  near  to  us.  The  voice  of  the  silver  trumpets  is. 
Draw  near  to  God,  and  He  will  draw  near  to  you !  Can  any  blessed- 
ness be  more  glorious  ? 

But  more  particularly,  First^  In  the  joyful  sound,  we  have  the 
guide  to  blessedness.  The  silver  trumpets  put  us  into  the  way,  unto 
the  "  rest  that  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God."  We  are  ignorant 
of  the  way  to  blessedness  ;  and  the  way  of  peace  we  have  not  known. 
But  where  the  trumpets  of  the  Gospel  sound,  there  is  a  fulfillment 
of  that  word:  "  Thine  ears  shall  hear  a  word  behind  thee,  saying, 
this  is  the  way,  walk  in  it."  They  reveal  to  us  what  we  are  to  think, 
what  we  are  to  do,  what  we  are  to  wish  for  ;  they  lead  us  in  the  way 
wherein  we  should  go. 

Secondly.  In  the  joyful  sound  we  have  the  cause  of  blessedness. 
The  silver  trumpets  are  like  the  golden  pipes  in  Zechariah,  which 


392  COTTON    MATHER. 

convey  the  golden  oil  of  grace  into  the  souls  of  men.  'Tis  by  them 
that  God  fetches  men  out  of  the  graves,  in  which  they  lie  sinfully 
and  woefully  putrifying  ;  and  infuses  a  principle  of  piety  into  them  ; 
and  inclines  them  to  the  things  that  are  holy,  and  just,  and  good. 
That  effectual  calling  which  brings  men  into  blessedness,  'tis  in  the 
trumpets  of  the  Gosj)el  that  the  spirit  of  God  gives  it  unto  His  cho- 
sen ones ;  men  hear  the  word  of  the  Gospel  and  believe. 

APPLICATIOK 

But  let  us  now  make  some  improvements  of  these  instructions. 

I.  Blessed  the  people  who  know  the  joyful  sound  ;  then  wretch- 
ed the  people,  forlorn  the  people,  undone  the  people,  who  are  strang- 
ers to  the  joyful  sound.     Oh  !  the  pity  that  is  due  unto  them  ! 

The  Jewish  nation  have  now  lost  their  silver  trumpets  for  these 
many  ages.  And  in  their  long  dispersion  how  pathetical  is  their  cry 
unto  us.  Have  pity  on  me,  0  ye,  my  friends,  have  pity  on  me,  for 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  hath  touched  me.  Yea,  and  how  many  Protest- 
ant Churches  have,  in  our  days,  had  their  silver  trumpets  forced 
from  them;  and  instead  thereof  heard  the  "enemies  roaring  in  the 
midst  of  the  congregations  !"  Yea,  how  many  nations  are  there  that 
never  heard  the  joyful  sound !  That  lie  buried  in  Paganizing  or  in 
Mohammedan  infidelity.  And  is  it  not  a  lamentable  thing  that  so  near 
unto  ourselves  there  should  be  so  many  ungospelized  plantations  ! 
Our  pity  for  those  ought  certainly  to  put  us  upon  prayer  for  them  ; 
upon  study  for  them.  Oh  !  what  shall  be  done  for  them  who  lie  in 
wickedness,  and  have  this  epitaph  upon  them  :  If  our  Gosj^el  he  hid, 
it  is  hid  unto  them  that  he  lost. 

II.  Blessed  the  people,  who  know  the  joyful  sound  ;  then  we  are 
a  blessed  jDcople  ;  and  at  the  same  time  we  are  to  be  taught  how  to 
continue  so.  My  brethren,  we  have  the  jo3rful  sound  at  such  a  rate, 
that  it  may  almost  be  said  of  us  as  in  Deuteronomy  :  "  What  nation 
is  there  who  hath  God  so  nigh  unto  them  ?"  For  the  silver  trum- 
pets to  be  heard  sounding  as  they  are  in  the  American  regions ; 
verily  'tis  the  Lord's  doings,  and  marvelous  in  our  eyes.  May  we 
ever  account  these  our  precious  and  our  pleasant  things. 

Oh !  how  thankful  ought  we  to  be  unto  our  God  for  His  Gospel, 
and  the  ordinances  of  it !  When  the  silver  trumpets  were  of  old 
going  to  sound,  the  angels  of  God  were  heard  making  those  acclama- 
tions thereupon,  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest."  And  shall  not 
we  give  glory  to  the  most  High  God  on  the  occasion  !  O  Gospel- 
ized  people,  God  hath  showed  His  statutes  and  His  judgments  unto 
us,  praise  ye  the  Lord,     When  the  trumpets  of  God  are  sounding 


THE    JOYFUL    SOUND    OF    SALVATION.  393 

stall  not  our  trumpets  be  sounding  too  ?  His  trumpets  are  in  His 
ordinances  ;  our  trumpets  are  in  our  thanksgivings,  we  are  so  called 
ujDon:  "With  trumpets  make  a  joyful  noise  before  the  Lord." 

Such  a  blessed  people  should  be  a  thankful  people.  But  verily, 
our  Grod  will  not  look  on  us  as  a  thankful  people,  if  we  are  not  also 
a  fruitful  people.  A  barren  people  ;  oh  !  what  a  fearful  doom  are 
they  threatened  with  !  what  a  fearful  fate  are  they  warned  of!  "It 
is  nigh  unto  cursing."  Sirs,  be  fruitful  in  every  good  work ;  fruit- 
ful and  always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord. 

In  the  midst  of  these  cares  you  will  use  all  due  means,  that  you 
may  see  no  intermission  of  the  joyful  sound.  You  will  provide  sea- 
sonably for  the  succession  that  shall  be  needful,  by  all  due  cares 
about  the  means  of  education  in  our  land,  without  which  the  land 
becomes  a  Scythian  desert.  But  when  you  make  this  provision, 
oh !  look  up  to  the  glorious  Lord,  that  you  may  be  blessed  with 
truly  silver  trumpets ;  never  have  any  but  a  man  of  worth  ;  such  as 
will  be  of  good  metal ;  and  such  as  in  the  cause  of  God  will  always 
"  lift  up  their  voice  like  a  trumpet." 

But  this  is  that  which  is  most  of  all  to  be  urged  upon  you.  Heark- 
en, hearken  to  the  joyful  sound.  Hearken  to  it,  and  comply  with 
it.  The  joyful  sound  is  that  "  Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way,  and 
return  to  the  Lord,  who  will  have  mercy  on  him."  Hearken  to  it, 
and  with  echoes  of  devotion  reply,  "My  God,  I  return  unto  Thee !" 
The  joyful  sound  is  that:  "Come  to  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  Hearken  to  it,  and  with 
echoes  of  devotion  reply,  "  My  Saviour,  I  come  unto  Thee  !"  That 
grace  of  God  which  bringeth  salvation,  has  the  joyful  sound  of  the 
silver  trumpets  in  it.  Now,  your  echoes  to  the  trumpet  must  be 
these  :  Lord,  I  desire,  I  resolve  to  lead  a  godly,  a  sober,  a  righteous 
life  before  Thee ! 

My  friends,  the  last  trumpet  that  is  to  sound  at  the  appearance 
of  the  glorious  Lord,  who  is  to  judge  the  world,  will  ere  long  sum- 
mon you  to  give  an  account  of  your  compliance  with  the  silver 
trumpets  of  God.  You  that  now  hear  the  joyful  sound  of  these 
trumpets,  must  ere  long  hear  the  awful  sound  of  that  amazing  trum- 
pet. A  loud  and  a  shrill  trumpet  will  sound,  "  Arise,  ye  dead,  and 
come  to  judgment."  Oh !  may  our  compliance  with  the  joyful  sound 
of  the  silver  trumpets  now  be  such  that  we  may  find  mercy  in  that 
day.  So  comply  with  it  now  that  the  joyful  sound  of  a,  "  Come  ye 
blessed,"  may  be  heard  by  you  in  the  day  when  "the  times  of  re- 
freshing shall  come  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord." 


DISCOURSE  SIXTY-SEVENTH. 

JONATHAN     EDWARDS. 

This  distinguislied  metaphysician  and  divine  was  born  at  "Windsor, 
Connecticut,  October  5,  1703.  His  father  was  a  useful  minister  of  the 
Gospel.  His  mother,  to  whom  he  owed  so  much  for  his  early  rehgious 
training,  was  a  woman  of  great  jiiety  and  remarkable  intelligence.  Her 
character  has  been  thus  sketched  : — "  Devotedly  pious,  consecrated  to 
her  work,  and  entermg  into  aU  her  husband's  plans  of  usefulness,  she 
was,  at  the  same  time,  remarkably  intellectual.  Her  concealed  meta- 
physics broke  oiit  amid  kitchen  and  parish  duties  ;  and  even  m  her  de- 
votions she  was  a  philosopher  without  knowing  it.  Inferior  to  her  hus- 
band in  taste  and  years  of  life,  she  possessed  a  more  stern  and  powerful 
intellect,  fond  of  reasoning,  of  studying  2:)hilosophy,  and  pondering  the 
deepest  problems  of  theology.  Had  Paul's  prohibition  been  out  of  the 
way,  she  might  have  eclipsed  her  companion  in  the  pulpit,  and  antici- 
pated the  fome  of  her  immortal  son." 

While  a  boy,  Edwards  read  Locke  on  the  Understanding,  and  similar 
works,  with  a  keen  reUsh.  He  was  graduated  at  Yale  College  before  he 
was  seventeen  years  of  age.  After  preaching  a  few  months  in  New  York, 
he  was  appointed  tutor  at  Yale  College  in  1724.  Here  he  contmued  tiU 
1726,  when  he  was  invited  to  preach  in  Northampton,  Mass.,  where  he  was 
ordained,  as  colleague  of  his  grandfather,  Mr.  Stoddard,  in  Feb.  1727. 
He  continued  in  this  place  more  than  twenty-three  years,  and  the  Lord 
crowned  his  labors  with  abundant  success.  The  "  Great  Awakening" 
commenced  under  his  preachmg.*  From  August,  1751,  he  was  six 
years  missionary  to  the  Housatonic  Lidians,  Stockbridge,  Mass.  During 
this  time  he  produced  some  of  his  great  works,  which  gave  him  a  world- 
wide reputation.  In  1758  he  accepted  the  office  of  President  of  Prince- 
ton College,  New  Jersey ;  but  he  died  from  small-pox,  by  inoculation, 
March  22,  1758,  only  a  few  months  after  his  appointment,  aged  fifty- 
four  years.  His  last  words  were,  "  Trust  in  God,  and  ye  need  not 
fear." 

It  has  been  said  of  Edwards,  that  he  would  have  been  the  greatest 
*  See  Sketch  of  American  Pulpit. 


SINNERS    IN    THE    HANDS    OF    AN    ANGRY    GOD.       895 

of  philosopliers,  if  he  had  not  been  the  greatest  of  divines.  The  secret 
of  his  intellectual  strength  lay  in  the  faculty  of  abstraction  /  bestowed 
upon  him,  perhajDS,  in  as  great  plenitude  as  upon  any  other  man.  It  is 
not  needful  to  speak  of  his  many  profound  wiitings,  which  take  rank 
among  the  very  highest  of  iminspired  productions. 

As  a  preacher  Edwards  has  been  rarely  if  ever  excelled  since  the 
days  of  the  apostles.  His  manner  was  not  oratorical,  and  his  voice  was 
feeble ;  but  this  was  of  little  account,  "with  so  much  directness  and  rich- 
ness of  thought,  and  such  overwhelming  power  of  argument,  pressed 
home  upon  the  conscience  and  the  heart.  In  vain  did  any  one  attempt  to 
escape  from  falling  a  prey  under  his  mighty  appeal.  It  was  m  the  arppli- 
cation  of  his  subject  that  he  specially  excelled.  The  part  of  the  sermon 
before  this  was  only  preparatory.  Here  was  the  stretching  out  of  the 
arms  of  the  discourse,  to  borrow  a  figure,  upon  the  hearts  and  Hves  of 
his  audience.  "It  was  a  kind  of  moral  inquisition;  and  sinners  were 
put  upon  argiur  entative  racks,  and  beneath  screws,  and  with  an  awful 
revolution  of  the  great  truth  in  hand,  evenly  and  steadily  screwed  down 
and  crushed." 

The  most  celebrated  sermon  of  Edwards  is  that  which  is  here  given ; 
preached  at  Enfield,  Comiecticut,  July  8,  1741.  One  said  of  it : — "I 
think  a  person  of  moral  sensibility,  alone  at  midnight,  reading  that  awful 
discom-se,  would  well-nigh  go  crazy.  He  would  hear  the  judgment 
trump,  and  see  the  advancing  heaven,  and  the  day  of  doom  would  begin 
to  mantle  him  with  its  shroud."  This  sermon  gave  a  powei-ful  impulse  to 
the  great  revival  then  progressing.  The  most  wonderful  effect  was  pro- 
duced upon  the  audience  during  its  delivery.  It  is  stated  that  the  hear- 
ers groaned  and  shrieked  convulsively ;  and  then-  outci'ies  of  distress 
once  drowned  the  preacher's  voice,  and  compelled  him  to  make  a  long 
pause.  Some  of  the  audience  actually  seized  fast  hold  upon  the  pillars 
and  braces  of  the  meeting-house,  as  if  that  very  moment  their  shding 
feet  were  precipitating  them  mto  the  gulf  of  rum  ;  and  a  fellow-clergy- 
man, sitting  at  the  time  in  the  pulpit,  cried  out,  "  Mr.  Edwards,  Mr. 
Edwards !  Is  not  God  merciful  too  ?" 


SINNERS  IN  THE  HANDS  OF  AN  ANGEY  GOD. 

"  Their  foot  shall  slide  in  due  time." — ^Deut.  xxxii.  35. 

In  this  verse  is  threatened  the  vengeance  of  God  on  the  wicked, 
unbelieving  Israelites,  who  were  God's  visible  people,  and  lived 
under  means  of  grace  ;  and  who,  notwithstanding  all  God's  wonder- 
ful works  that  He  had  wrought  toward  that  people,  jet  remained, 
as  is  expressed  in  the  twenty-eighth  verse,  void  of  counsel,  having  no 


396  JONATHAN    EDWARDS. 

understanding  in  tliem ;  and  that,  under  all  the  cultivations  of 
heaven,  brought  forth  bitter  and  poisonous  fruit;  as  in  the  two 
verses  next  preceding  the  text. 

The  expression  that  I  have  chosen  for  my  text,  "  Their  foot  shall 
slide  in  due  time,"  seems  to  imply  the  following  things,  relating  to 
the  punishment  and  destruction  that  these  wncked  Israelites  Avere 
exposed  to : 

1.  That  they  were  always  exposed  to  destruction ;  as  one  that 
stands  or  walks  in  slippery  places  is  always  exposed  to  fall.  This  is 
implied  in  the  manner  of  their  destruction's  coming  upon  them,  be- 
ing represented  by  their  foot's  sliding.  The  same  is  expressed  in 
the  seventy-third  Psalm  :  "  Surely  Thou  didst  set  them  in  slippery 
places ;  Tiiou  castedst  them  down  into  destruction." 

2.  It  implies  that  they  were  always  exposed  to  sudden,  unex- 
pected destruction.  As  he  that  walks  in  slippery  places  is  every 
moment  liable  to  fall,  he  can  not  foresee  one  moment  whether  he 
shall  stand  or  fall  the  next ;  and  when  he  does  fall,  he  falls  at  once, 
without  wavering,  which  is  also  expressed  in  the  seventy-third 
Psalm  :  "  Surely  Thou  didst  set  them  in  slippery  places :  Thou 
castedst  them  down  into  destruction :  how  are  they  brought  into 
desolation  as  in  a  moment !" 

3.  Another  thing  implied  is,  that  they  are  liable  to  fall  of  them- 
selves, without  being  thrown  down  by  the  hand  of  another ;  as  he 
that  stands  or  walks  on  slippery  ground  needs  nothing  but  his  own 
weight  to  throw  him  down. 

4.  That  the  reason  why  they  are  not  fallen  already,  and  do  not 
faU  now,  is  only  that  God's  appointed  time  is  not  come.  For  it  is 
said  that  when  that  due  time  or  appointed  time  comes,  "  their  feet 
shall  slide."  Then  they  shall  be  left  to  fall,  as  they  are  inclined  by 
their  own  weight.  God  will  not  hold  them  up  in  these  slippery 
places  any  longer,  but  will  let  them  go  ;  and  then,  at  that  very  in- 
stant, they  shall  fall  into  destruction ;  as  he  that  stands  on  such  slip- 
pery, declining  ground,  on  the  edge  of  a  pit,  that  he  can  not  stand 
alone,  when  he  is  let  go  he  immediately  falls  and  is  lost. 

The  observation  from  the  words  that  I  would  now  insist  upon  is 
this : 

There  is  nothing  that  keeps  wicked  men  at  any  one  moment  out 
of  hell  but  the  mere  pleasure  of  God. 

By  the  mere  pleasure  of  God  I  mean  His  sovereign  pleasure.  His 
arbitrary  will,  restrained  by  no  obligation,  hindered  by  no  manner 
of  difS-Culty,  any  more  than  if  nothing  else  but  God's  mere  will  had 


SINNERS    IN    THE    HANDS    OF    AN    ANGRY    GOD.       397 

in  tlie  least  degree  or  in  any  respect  whatever  any  hand  in  the  pres- 
ervation of  wicked  men  one  moment. 

The  truth  of  this  observation  may  appear  by  the  following  con- 
siderations : 

1.  There  is  no  want  of  power  in  God  to  cast  wicked  men  into 
hell  at  any  moment.  Men's  hands  can  not  be  strong  when  God 
rises  np :  the  strongest  have  no  power  to  resist  Him,  nor  can  any 
deliver  out  of  His  hands. 

He  is  not  only  able  to  cast  wicked  men  into  hell,  but  He  can 
most  easily  do  it.  Sometimes  an  earthly  prince  meets  with  a  great 
deal  of  difficulty  to  subdue  a  rebel,  that  has  found  means  to  fortify 
himself,  and  has  made  himself  strong  by  the  number  of  his  followers. 
But  it  is  not  so  with  God.  There  is  no  fortress  that  is  any  defense 
against  the  power  of  God.  Though  hand  join  in  hand,  and  vast 
multitudes  of  God's  enemies  combine  and  associate  themselves,  they 
are  easily  broken  in  pieces :  they  are  as  great  heaps  of  light  chaff 
before  the  whirlwind ;  or  large  quantities  of  dry  stubble  before  de- 
vouring flames.  We  find  it  easy  to  tread  on  and  crush  a  worm  that 
we  see  crawling  on  the  earth  ;  so  it  is  easy  for  us  to  cut  or  sunder  a 
slender  thread  that  any  thing  hangs  by ;  thus  easy  it  is  for  God, 
when  He  pleases,  to  cast  His  enemies  down  to  hell.  What  are  we, 
that  we  should  think  to  stand  before  Him,  at  whose  rebuke  the 
earth  trembles,  and  before  whom  the  rocks  are  thrown  down  ! 

2.  They  deserve  to  be  cast  into  hell ;  so  that  Divine  justice  never 
stands  in  the  way,  it  makes  no  objection  against  God's  using  His 
power  at  any  moment  to  destroy  them.  Yea,  on  the  contrary,  just- 
ice calls  aloud  for  an  infinite  punishment  of  their  sins.  Divine 
justice  says  of  the  tree  that  brings  forth  such  grapes  of  Sodom, 
"  cut  it  down,  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ?"  The  sword  of  Di- 
vine justice  is  every  moment  brandished  over  their  hands,  and  it  is 
nothing  but  the  hand  of  arbitrary  mercy,  and  God's  mere  will  that 
holds  it  back. 

3.  They  are  already  under  a  sentence  of  condemnation  to  hell. 
They  do  not  only  justly  deserve  to  be  cast  down  thither,  but  the 
sentence  of  the  law  of  God — that  eternal  and  immutable  rule  of 
righteousness  that  God  has  fixed  between  Him  and  mankind — is 
gone  out  against  them ;  and  stands  against  them ;  so  that  they  are 
bound  over  already  to  hell:  "he  that  believeth  not  is  condemned 
already ;"  so  that  every  unconverted  man  properly  belongs  to  hell ; 
that  is  his  place;  from  thence  he  is:  "ye  are  from  beneath;"  and 
thither  he  is  found  ;  it  is  the  place  that  justice,  and  God's  word,  and 
the  sentence  of  His  unchangeable  law,  assign  to  him. 


398  JONATHAN    EDWARDS. 

4.  They  are  now  the  objects  of  that  very  same  anger  and  wrath 
of  God,  that  is  expressed  in  the  torments  of  hell ;  and  the  reason 
•why  they  do  not  go  down  to  hell  at  each  moment,  is  not  because 
God,  in  whose  power  they  are,  is  not  then  very  angry  with  them ; 
as  angry  as  He  is  with  many  of  those  miserable  creatures  that  He  is 
now  tormenting  in  hell,  and  do  there  feel  and  bear  the  fierceness  of 
His  wrath.  Yea,  God  is  a  great  deal  more  angry  with  great  num- 
bers that  are  now  on  earth ;  yea,  doubtless,  with  many  that  are  now 
in  this  congregation,  that,  it  may  be,  are  at  ease  and  quiet,  than  He 
is  with  many  of  those  that  are  now  in  the  flames  of  hell. 

So  that  it  is  not  because  God  is  unmindful  of  their  wickedness, 
and  does  not  resent  it,  that  He  does  not  let  loose  His  hand  and  cut 
them  off.  God  is  not  altogether  such  a  one  as  themselves,  though 
they  imagine  Him  to  be  so.  The  wrath  of  God  burns  against  them ; 
their  damnation  does  not  slumber;  the  pit  is  prepared;  the  fire  is 
made  ready ;  the  furnace  is  now  hot,  ready  to  receive  them ;  the 
flames  do  now  rage  and  glow.  The  glittering  sword  is  whet,  and  held 
over  them,  and  the  pit  hath  opened  her  mouth  under  them. 

5.  The  devil  stands  -ready  to  fall  upon  them,  and  seize  them  as 
his  own,  at  what  moment  God  shall  permit  him.  They  belong  to 
him ;  he  has  their  souls  in  his  possession,  and  under  his  dominion. 
The  ScriiDture  represents  them  as  his  goods.  The  devils  watch  them ; 
they  are  ever  by  them,  at  their  right  hand ;  they  stand  waiting  for 
them,  like  greedy,  hungry  lions  that  see  their  prey,  and  expect  to 
have  it,  but  are  for  the  present  kept  back  ;  if  God  should  withdraw 
His  hand  by  which  they  are  restrained,  they  would  in  one  moment 
fly  upon  their  poor  souls.  The  old  Serpent  is  gaping  for  them ; 
hell  opens  its  mouth  wide  to  receive  them ;  and  if  God  should  per- 
mit, they  would  be  hastily  swallowed  up  and  lost. 

6.  There  are  in  the  souls  of  wicked  men  those  hellish  principles 
reigning,  that  would  presently  kindle  and  flame  out  in  hell-fire,  if  it 
were  not  for  God's  restraints.  There  is  laid  in  the  very  nature  of 
carnal  men,  a  foundation  for  the  torments  of  hell :  there  are  those 
corrujDt  principles,  in  reigning  power  in  them,  and  in  full  possession 
of  them,  that  are  the  beginnings  of  hell-fire.  These  principles  are 
active  and  powerful,  exceeding  violent  in  their  nature,  and  if  it  were 
not  for  the  restraining  hand  of  God  upon  them,  they  would  soon 
break  out,  they  would  flame  out  after  the  same  manner  as  the  same 
corruptions,  the  same  enmity  does  in  the  hearts  of  damned  souls, 
and  would  beget  the  same  torments  in  them  as  they  do  in  them. 
The  souls  of  the  wicked  are  in  Scripture  compared  to  the  troubled 
sea,  For  the  present  God  restrains  their  wickedness  by  His  mighty 


SINNERS    IN    THE    HANDS    OP    AN    ANORT    GOD.       399 

power,  as  He  does  tlie  raging  waves  of  the  troubled  sea,  saying, 
"  Hitherto  shalt  thou  come,  and  no  further ;"  but  if  God  should  with- 
draw that  restraining  power,  it  would  soon  carry  all  before  it.  Sin 
is  the  ruin  and  misery  of  the  soul ;  it  is  destructive  in  its  nature ; 
and  if  God  should  leave  it  without  restraint,  there  would  need  noth- 
ing else  to  make  the  soul  perfectly  miserable.  The  corruption  of 
the  heart  of  man  is  a  thing  that  is  immoderate  and  boundless 
in  its  fury ;  and  while  wicked  men  live  here,  it  is  like  fire  pent  up 
by  God's  restraints,  whereas  if  it  were  let  loose,  it  would  set  on  fire 
the  course  of  nature ;  and  as  the  heart  is  now  a  sink  of  sin,  so,  if 
sin  was  not  restrained,  it  would  immediately  turn  the  soul  into  a 
fiery  oven,  or  a  furnace  of  fire  and  brimstone. 

7.  It  is  no  security  to  wicked  men  for  one  moment,  that  there 
are  no  visible  means  of  death  at  hand.  It  is  no  security  to  a  natural 
man,  that  he  is  now  in  health,  and  that  he  does  not  see  which  way 
he  should  now  immediately  go  out  of  the  world  by  any  accident,  and 
that  there  is  no  visible  danger  in  any  respect  in  his  circumstances. 
The  manifold  and  continual  experience  of  the  world  in  all  ages, 
shows  that  this  is  no  evidence  that  a  man  is  not  on  the  very  brink 
of  eternity,  and  that  the  next  step  will  not  be  into  another  world. 
The  unseen,  unthought-of  ways  and  means  of  persons  going  sud- 
denly out  of  the  world  are  innumerable  and  inconceivable.  Uncon- 
verted men  walk  over  the  pit  of  hell  on  a  rotten  covering,  and  there 
are  innumerable  places  in  this  covering,  so  weak  that  they  will  not 
bear  their  weight,  and  these  places  are  not  seen.  The  arrows  of 
death  fly  unseen  at  noon-day ;  the  sharpest  sight  can  not  discern 
them.  God  has  so  many  different,  unsearchable  ways  of  taking 
wicked  men  out  of  the  world  and  sending  them  to  hell,  that  there  is 
nothing  to  make  it  appear,  that  God  had  need  to  be  at  the  expense 
of  a  miracle,  or  go  out  of  the  ordinary  course  of  his  Providence,  to 
destroy  any  wicked  man,  at  any  moment.  All  the  means  that  there 
are  of  sinners  going  out  of  the  Avorld,  are  so  in  God's  hand,  and  so 
absolutely  subject  to  His  power  and  determination,  that  it  does  not 
depend  at  all  less  on  the  mere  will  of  God,  whether  sinners  shall  at 
any  moment  go  to  hell,  than  if  means  were  never  made  use  of,  or 
at  all  concerned  in  the  case. 

8.  Natural  men's  prudence  and  care  to  preserve  their  own 
lives,  or  the  care  of  others  to  preserve  them,  do  not  secure  them  a 
moment.  This,  Divine  providence  and  universal  experience  do 
also  bear  testimony  to.  There  is  this  clear  evidence  that  men's  own 
wisdom  is  no  security  to  them  from  death :  that  if  it  were  other- 
wise we  should  see  some  difference  between  the  wise  and  politic  men 


400  •  JONATHAN    EDWARDS. 

of  the  world,  and  others,  with  regard  to  their  liableness  to  earlj  and 
unexpected  death;  but  how  is  it  in  fact?  "How  dieth  the  wise 
man  ?     As  the  fool." 

9.  All  wicked  men's  pains  and  contrivance  they  use  to  escape 
hell,  while  they  continue  to  reject  Christ,  and  so  remain  wicked  men, 
do  not  secure  them  from  hell  one  moment.  Almost  every  natural 
man  that  hears  of  hell,  flatters  himself  that  he  shall  escape  it;  he 
depends  upon  himself  for  his  own  security ;  he  flatters  himself  in 
what  he  has  done,  in  what  he  is  now  doing,  or  what  he  intends  to 
do ;  every  one  lays  out  matters  in  his  own  mind  how  he  shall  avoid 
damnation,  and  flatters  himself  that  he  contrives  well  for  himself, 
and  that  his  schemes  will  not  fail.  They  hear,  indeed,  that  there 
are  but  few  sacred,  and  that  the  bigger  part  of  men  that  have  died 
heretofore  are  gone  to  hell ;  but  each  one  imagines  that  he  lays  out 
matters  better  for  his  own  escape  than  others  have  done :  he  does 
not  intend  to  come  to  that  place  of  torment ;  he  says  within  himself, 
that  he  intends  to  take  care  that  shall  be  effectual,  and  to  order  mat- 
ter so  for  himself  as  not  to  fail. 

But  the  foolish  children  of  men  do  miserably  delude  themselves 
in  their  own  schemes,  and  in  their  confidence  in  their  own  strength 
and  wisdom,  they  trust  to  nothing  but  a  shadow.  The  bigger  part 
of  those  that  heretofore  have  lived  under  the  same  means  of  grace, 
and  are  now  dead,  are  undoubtedly  gone  to  hell ;  and  it  was  not  be- 
cause they  were  not  as  wise  as  those  that  are  now  alive ;  it  was  not 
because  they  did  not  lay  out  matters  as  well  for  themselves  to  secure 
their  own  escape.  If  it  were  so  that  we  could  come  to  speak  with 
them,  and  could  inquire  of  them,  one  by  one,  whether  they  expected, 
when  alive,  and  when  they  used  to  hear  about  hell,  ever  to  be  sub- 
jects of  that  miserj^,  we,  doubtless,  should  hear  one  and  another 
reply,  "  No,  I  never  intended  to  come  here  :  I  had  laid  out  matters 
otherwise  in  my  mind  ;  I  thought  I  should  contrive  well  for  myself; 
I  thought  my  scheme  good  :  I  intended  to  take  effectual  care ;  but  it 
came  upon  me  unexpectedly ;  I  did  not  look  for  it  at  that  time,  and 
in  that  manner;  it  came  as  a  thief;  death  outwitted  me.  God's 
wrath  was  too  quick  for  me :  0,  my  cursed  foolishness  !  I  was  flat- 
tering myself,  and  pleasing  myself  with  vain  dreams  of  what  I  would 
do  hereafter ;  and  when  I  was  saying  peace  and  safety,  then  sudden 
destruction  came  upon  me." 

10.  God  has  laid  Himself  under  no  obligations,  by  any  promise, 
to  keep  any  natural  man  out  of  hell  one  moment :  God  certainly  has 
made  no  promises  either  of  eternal  life,  or  of  any  deliverance  or 
preservation  from  eternal  death,  but  what  are  contained  in  the  cove- 


SINNERS    IN    THE    HANDS    OF    AN    ANGRY    GOD.       401 

nant  of  grace,  tlie  promises  that  are  given  in  Clirist,  in  wliom  all  the 
promises  are  yea  and  amen.  But  surely  they  have  no  interest  in. the 
promises  of  the  covenant  of  grace  that  are  not  the  children  of  the 
covenant,  and  that  do  not  believe  in  any  of  the  promises  of  the  cove- 
nant, and  have  no  interest  in  the  Mediator  of  the  covenant. 

So  that,  whatever  some  have  imagined  and  pretended  about 
promises  made  to  natural  men's  earnest  seeking  and  knocking,  it  is 
plain  and  manifest  that  whatever  pains  a  natural  man  takes  in  relig- 
ion, whatever  prayers  he  makes,  till  he  believes  in  Christ,  God  is 
under  no  manner  of  obligation  to  keep  him  a  moment  from  eternal 
destruction. 

So  that  thus  it  is,  that  natural  men  are  held  in  the  hand  of  God 
over  the  pit  of  hell ;  they  have  deserved  the  fiery  pit,  and  are  al- 
ready sentenced  to  it ;  and  God  is  dreadfully  provoked,  His  anger  is 
as  great  toward  them  as  to  those  that  are  actually  suflferiag  the  exe- 
cutions of  the  fierceness  of  His  wrath  in  hell,  and  they  have  done 
nothing  in  the  least  to  appease  or  abate  that  anger,  neither  is  God  in 
the  least  bound  by  any  promise  to  hold  them  up  one  moment ;  the 
devil  is  waiting  for  them,  hell  is  gaping  for  them,  the  flames  gather 
and  flash  about  them,  and  would  fain  lay  hold  on  them  and  swallow 
them  up ;  the  fire  pent  up  in  their  own  hearts  is  struggling  to  break 
out ;  and  they  have  no  interest  in  any  Mediator,  there  are  uo  means 
within  reach  that  can  be  any  security  to  them.  In  short,  they  have 
no  refuge,  nothing  to  take  hold  of;  all  that  preserves  them  every 
moment  is  the  mere  arbitrary  will,  and  uncovenanted,  unobliged  for- 
bearance of  an  incensed  God. 

APPLICATION. 

The  use  may  be  of  awakening  to  unconverted  persons  in  this 
congregation.  This  that  you  have  heard  is  the  case  of  every  one 
of  you  that  are  out  of  Christ.  That  world  of  misery,  that  lake  of 
burning  brimstone,  is  extended  abroad  under  you.  There  is  the 
dreadful  pit  of  the  glowing  flames  of  the  wrath  of  God ;  there  is 
hell's  wide  gaping  mouth  open ;  and  you  have  nothing  to  stand  upon, 
nor  any  thing  to  take  hold  of  There  is  nothing  between  you  and 
hell  but  the  air  ;  it  is  only  the  power  and  mere  pleasure  of  God  that 
holds  you  up. 

You  probably  are  not  sensible  of  this ;  you  find  you  are  kejDt  out 
of  hell,  but  do  not  see  the  hand  of  God  in  it ;  but  look  at  other 
things,  as  the  good  state  of  your  bodily  constitution,  your  care  of  your 
own  life,  and  the  means  you  use  for  your  own  preservatiou.  But 
indeed  these  things  are  nothing  ;  if  God  should  withdraw  His  hand 

26 


4.02  '  JONATHAN    EDWARDS. 

they  would  avail  no  more  to  keep  you  from  falling  tlian  the  thin  air 
to  hold  up  a  person  that  is  suspended  in  it. 

Your  wickedness  makes  you,  as  it  were,  heavy  as  lead,  and  to 
tend  downward  with  great  weight  and  pressure  toward  hell ;  and  if 
God  should  let  you  go  you  would  immediately  sink  and  swiftly  de- 
scend and  plunge  into  the  bottomless  gulf,  and  your  healthy  consti- 
tution, and  your  own  care  and  prudence,  and  best  contrivance,  and 
all  your  righteousness,  would  have  no  more  influence  to  uphold  you 
and  keep  you  out  of  hell  than  a  spider's  web  would  have  to  stop  a 
falling  rock.  Were  it  not  that  so  is  the  sovereign  pleasure  of  God, 
the  earth  would  not  bear  you  one  moment;  for  you  are  a  burden  to 
it;  the  creation  groans  with  you;  the  creature  is  made  subject  to  the 
bondage  of  your  corruption,  not  willingly  ;  the  sun  does  not  willing- 
ly shine  upon  you  to  give  you  Hght  to  serve  sin  and  Satan ;  the 
earth  does  not  willingly  yield  her  increase  to  satisfy  your  lusts  ;  nor 
is  it  willingly  a  stage  for  your  wickedness  to  be  acted  upon ;  the  air 
does  not  willingly  serve  you  for  breath  to  maintain  the  flame  of  life 
in  your  vitals,  while  you  spend  your  life  in  the  service  of  God's  ene- 
mies. God's  creatures  are  good,  and  were  made  for  man  to  serve 
God  with,  and  do  not  willingly  subserve  to  any  other  purpose,  and 
groan  when  they  are  abused  to  purposes  so  directly  contrary  to  their 
nature  and  end.  And  the  world  would  spew  you  out,  were  it  not  for 
the  sovereign  hand  of  Him  who  hath  subjected  it  in  hope.  There 
are  the  black  clouds  of  God's  wrath  now  hanging  directly  over  your 
heads,  full  of  the  dreadful  storm,  and  big  with  thunder ;  and  were 
it  not  for  the  restraining  hand  of  God  it  would  immediately  burst 
forth  upon  you.  The  sovereign  pleasure  of  God,  for  the  present, 
stays  His  rough  wind  ;  otherwise  it  would  come  with  fury,  and  your 
destruction  would  come  like  a  whirlwind,  and  you  would  be  like  the 
chaff  of  the  summer  thrashing-floor. 

The  wrath  of  God  is  like  great  waters  that  are  dammed  for  the 
present ;  they  increase  more  and  more,  and  rise  higher  and  higher, 
till  an  outlet  is  given  ;  and  the  longer  the  stream  is  stopped  the  more 
rapid  and  mighty  is  its  course,  when  once  it  is  let  loose.  It  is  true,  that 
judgment  against  your  evil  work  has  not  been  executed  hitherto ; 
the  floods  of  God's  vengeance  have  been  withheld ;  but  your  guilt 
in  the  mean  time  is  constantly  increasing,  and  you  are  every  day 
treasuring  up  more  wrath ;  the  waters  are  continually  rising,  and 
waxing  more  and  more  mighty  ;  and  there  is  nothing  but  the  mere 
pleasure  of  God  that  holds  the  waters  back,  that  are  unwilling  to  be 
stopped,  and  press  hard  to  go  forward.  If  God  should  only  with- 
draw His  hand  from  the  flood-gate,  it  would  immediately  fly  open, 


SINNERS    IN    THE    HANDS    OP    AN    ANGRY    GOD.       403 

and  tTie  fiery  floods  of  the  fierceness  and  wrath  of  God  would  rush 
forth  with  inconceivable  fury,  and  would  come  upon  you  with  om- 
nipotent power ;  and  if  your  strength  were  ten  thousand  times 
greater  than  it  is,  yea,  ten  thousand  times  greater  than  the  strength 
of  the  stoutest,  sturdiest  devil  in  hell,  it  would  be  nothing  to  with- 
stand or  endure  it. 

The  bow  of  God's  wrath  is  bent,  and  the  arrow  made  ready  on 
the  string,  and  justice  bends  the  aiTOw  at  your  heart,  and  strains  the 
bow,  and  it  is  nothing  but  the  mere  pleasure  of  God,  and  that  of  an 
angry  God,  without  any  promise  or  obligation  at  all,  that  keeps  the 
arrow  one  moment  from  being  made  drunk  with  your  blood. 

Thus  are  all  you  that  never  passed  under  a  great  change  of  heart 
by  the  mighty  power  of  the  Spirit  of  God  upon  your  souls ;  all  that 
were  never  born  again,  and  made  new  creatures,  and  raised  from 
being  dead  in  sin,  to  a  state  of  new,  and  before  altogether  unexpe- 
rienced light,  and  life  (however  you  may  have  reformed  your  life  in 
many  things,  and  may  have  had  religious  affections,  and  may  keep 
up  a  form  of  religion  in  your  families  and  closets,  and  in  the  houses 
of  God,  and  may  be  strict  in  it),  you  are  thus  in  the  hands  of  an  an- 
gry God ;  it  is  nothing  but  His  mere  pleasure  that  keeps  you  from 
being  this  moment  swallowed  up  in  everlasting  destruction. 

However  unconvinced  you  may  now  be  of  the  truth  of  what  you 
hear,  by  and  by  you  will  be  fully  convinced  of  it.  Those  that  are 
gone  from  being  in  the  like  circumstances  with  you,  see  that  it  was 
so  with  them  ;  for  destruction  came  suddenly  upon  most  of  them 
w^hen  they  expected  nothing  of  it,  and  while  they  were  saying,  peace 
and  safety :  now  they  see  that  those  things  that  they  depended  on 
for  peace  and  safety  were  nothing  but  thin  air  and  empty  shadows. 

The  God  that  holds  you  over  the  pit  of  hell  much  as  one  holds  a 
spider  or  some  loathsome  insect  over  the  fire,  abhors  you,  and  is 
dreadfully  provoked ;  His  wrath  toward  you  burns  like  fire ;  He 
looks  upon  you  as  worthy  of  nothing  else  but  to  be  cast  into  the  fire ; 
He  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  bear  you  in  His  sight ;  you  are  ten  thou- 
sand times  as  abominable  in  His  eyes,  as  the  most  hateful  and  venom- 
ous serpent  is  in  ours.  You  have  offended  Him  infinitely  more  than 
ever  a  stubborn  rebel  did  his  prince ;  and  yet  it  is  nothing  but  His 
hand  that  holds  you  from  falling  into  the  fire  every  moment;  it  is 
ascribed  to  nothing  else  that  you  did  not  go  to  hell  the  last  night 
that  you  were  suffered  to  awake  again  in  this  world,  after  you  closed 
your  eyes  to  sleep ;  and  there  is  no  other  reason  to  be  given  why  you 
have  not  dropped  into  hell  since  you  arose  in  the  morning,  but  that 
God's  hand  has  held  you  up ;  there  is  no  other  reason  to  be  given 


404  JONATHAN    EDWARDS. 

why  you  have  not  gone  to  liell,  since  you  have  sat  here  in  the  house 
of  Grod,  provoking  His  pure  eye  by  your  sinful  wicked  manner  of 
attending  His  solemn  worship  ;  yea,  there  is  nothing  else  that  is  to 
be  given  as  a  reason  why  you  do  not  this  very  moment  drop  down  into 
hell. 

O  sinner !  consider  the  fearful  danger  you  are  in :  it  is  a  great 
furnace  of  wrath,  a  Avide  and  bottomless  pit,  full  of  the  fire  of  wrath 
that  you  are  held  over  in  the  hands  of  that  God  whose  wrath  is  pro- 
voked and  incensed  as  much  against  you  as  against  many  of  the  damned 
in  hell ;  you  hang  by  a  slender  thread,  with  the  flames  of  Divine 
wrath  flashing  about  it,  and  ready  every  moment  to  singe  it,  and 
burn  it  asunder ;  and  you  have  no  interest  in  any  mediator,  and  noth- 
ing to  lay  hold  of  to  save  yourself,  nothing  to  keep  oS  the  flames  of 
wrath,  nothing  of  your  own,  nothing  that  you  have  ever  done,  noth- 
ing that  you  can  do  to  induce  God  to  spare  you  one  moment. 

And  consider  here  more  particularly  several  things  concerning 
that  wrath  that  you  are  in  such  danger  of. 

1.  Whose  wrath  it  is.  It  is  the  wrath  of  the  infinite  God.  If  it 
were  only  the  wrath  of  man,  though  it  were  of  the  most  potent 
prince,  it  would  be  comparatively  little  to  be  regarded.  The  wrath 
of  kings  is  very  much  dreaded,  especially  of  absolute  monarchs,  that 
have  the  possessions  and  lives  of  their  subjects  wholly  in  their  power, 
to  be  disposed  of  at  their  mere  will.  "  The  fear  of  a  king  is  as  the 
roaring  of  a  lion :  whoso  provoketh  him  to  anger  sinneth  against  his 
own  soul."  The  subject  that  very  much  enrages  an  arbitrary  prince 
is  liable  to  suffer  the  most  extreme  torments  that  human  art  can  invent, 
or  human  power  can  inflict.  But  the  greatest  earthly  potentates,  in 
their  greatest  majesty  and  strength,  and  when  clothed  in  their  great- 
est terrors,  are  but  feeble,  despicable  worms  of  the  dust  in  comparison 
of  the  great  and  almighty  Creator,  and  King  of  heaven  and  earth ;  it 
is  but  little  that  they  can  do  when  most  enraged,  and  when  they 
have  exerted  the  utmost  of  their  fury.  All  the  kings  of  the  earth 
before  God  are  as  grasshoppers ;  they  are  nothing,  and  less  than 
nothing ;  both  their  love  and  their  hatred  is  to  be  despised.  The 
Avrath  of  the  great  King  of  kings  is  as  much  more  terrible  than  theirs, 
as  His  majesty  is  greater.  "  And  I  say  unto  you.  My  friends,  be  not 
afraid  of  them  that  kill  the  body,  and  after  that  have  no  more  that 
they  can  do.  But  I  will  forewarn  you  whom  you  shall  fear :  fear 
Him,  which  after  He  hath  killed,  hath  power  to  cast  into  hell :  yea, 
I  say  unto  you,  fear  Him. 

2.  It  is  the  fierceness  of  His  wrath  that  you  are  exposed  to.  We 
often  read  of  the  fury  of  God,  as  in  Isaiah  lix.  18.     "According  to 


SINNERS    IN    THE    HANDS    OP    AN    ANGRY    GOD.       405 

tlieir  deeds,  accordingly  He  will  repay  fury  to  His  adversaries."  So 
Isaiali  Ixvi.  15.  "  For  behold  tlie  Lord  will  come  with  fire,  and  with 
His  chariots  like  a  whirlwind,  to  render  His  anger  with  fury,  and  His 
rebuke  with  flames  of  fire."  And  so  in  many  other  places ;  so  we 
read  of  God's  fierceness  Eev.  xix.  15.  There  w^e  read  of "  The 
wine-press  of  the  fierceness  and  wrath  of  Almighty  God."  The 
words  are  exceedingly  terrible ;  if  it  had  only  been  said,  "  the  wrath 
of  God,"  the  words  would  have  implied  that  which  is  infinitely  dread- 
ful :  but  it  is  not  only  said  so,  but  "  the  fierceness  and  wrath  of  God," 
the  fury  of  God !  the  fierceness  of  Jehovah !  Oh  how  dreadful  must 
that  be !  Who  can  utter  or  conceive  what  such  expressions  carry  in 
them !  But  it  is  not  only  said  so,  but  "  the  fierceness  and  wrath  of 
Almighty  God."  As  though  there  would  be  a  very  great  manifesta- 
tion of  His  Almighty  power  in  what  the  fierceness  of  His  wrath 
should  inflict,  as  though  omnipotence  should  be  as  it  were  enraged, 
and  exerted,  as  men  are  w^ont  to  exert  their  strength  in  the  fierceness 
of  their  wrath.  Oh,  then,  what  will  be  the  consequence !  "What  will 
become  of  the  poor  worm  that  shall  sufier  it !  Whose  hands  can  be 
strong  !  And  whose  heart  endure  !  To  what  a  dreadful,  inexpress- 
ible, inconceivable  depth  of  misery  must  the  poor  creature  be  sunk 
wdio  shall  be  the  subject  of  this  ! 

Consider  this,  you  that  are  here  present,  that  ye  remain  in  an  un- 
regenerate  state.  That  God  will  execute  the  fierceness  of  His  anger 
implies  that  He  will  inflict  wrath  without  any  pity;  when  God  beholds 
the  ineffable  extremity  of  your  case,  and  sees  your  torment  so  vastly 
disproportioned  to  your  strength,  and  sees  how  your  poor  soul  is 
crushed,  and  sinks  down,  as  it  were,  into  an  infinite  gloom.  He  will 
have  no  compassion  upon  you,  He  will  not  forbear  the  execution  of 
His  wrath,  or  in  the  least  lighten  His  hand ;  there  shall  be  no  mode- 
ration or  mercy,  nor  will  God  then  at  all  stay  His  rough  winds ;  He 
will  have  no  regard  to  your  welfare,  nor  be  at  all  careful  lest  you  should 
suffer  too  much  in  any  other  sense,  than  only  that  you  should  not 
suffer  beyond  what  strict  justice  requires :  nothing  shall  be  withheld 
because  it  is  too  hard  for  you  to  bear.  "  Therefore  will  I  also  deal 
in  fury ;  Mine  eye  shall  not  spare,  neither  will  I  have  pity ;  and 
though  they  cry  in  Mine  ear  with  a  loud  voice,  yet  will  I  not  hear 
them."  Now  God  stands  ready  to  pity  you ;  this  is  a  day  of  mercy ; 
you  may  cry  now  with  some  encouragement  of  obtaining  mercy : 
but  when  once  the  day  of  mercy  is  passed,  your  most  lamentable  and 
dolorous  cpi'ies  and  shrieks  will  be  in  vain  ;  you  will  be  wholly  lost 
and  thrown  away  of  God,  as  to  any  regard  to  your  welfare ;  God 
will  have  no  other  use  to  put  you  to,  but  only  to  suffer  misery ;  you 


406  JONATHAN    EDWAEDS. 

sTaall  be  continued  in  being  to  no  other  end,  for  you  will  be  a  vessel 
of  wratli  fitted  to  destruction ;  and  tliere  will  be  no  otber  use  of  this 
vessel  but  only  to  be  filled  full  of  wratb ;  God  will  be  so  far  from 
pitying  you  wiien  you  cry  to  Him,  that  it  is  said  He  will  only  "laugh 
and  mock." 

■  How  awful  are  those  words,  which  are  the  words  of  the  great 
God :  "  I  will  tread  them  in  Mine  anger,  and  tramjjle  them  in  My 
fury,  aiid  their  blood  shall  be  sprinkled  npon  My  garments,  and  I 
will  stain  all  My  raiment."  It  is  perhaps  impossible  to  conceive  of 
words  that  carry  in  them  greater  manifestations  of  these  three  things, 
viz.,  contempt,  and  hatred,  and  fierceness  of  indignation.  If  yon  cry 
to  God  to  pity  you,  He  will  be  so  far  from  pitying  you  in  your  dole- 
ful case,  or  showing  you  the  least  regard  or  favor,  that  instead  of 
that.  He  will  only  tread  you  nnder  foot ;  and  though  He  will  know 
that  you  can  not  bear  the  weight  of  Omnipotence  treading  upon  you, 
yet  He  will  not  regard  that,  but  He  will  crush  you  under  His  feet 
without  mercy ;  He  Avill  crush  out  your  blood,  and  make  it  fly,  and 
it  shall  be  sprinkled  on  His  garments,  so  as  to  stain  all  His  raiment. 
He  will  not  only  hate  yon,  but  He  will  have  you  in  the  utmost  con- 
tempt ;  no  place  shall  be  thought  fit  for  you  but  under  His  feet,  to 
be  trodden  down  as  the  mire  in  the  streets, 

3.  The  misery  you  are  exposed  to  is  that  which  God  will  inflict 
to  that  end,  that  He  might  show  what  that  wrath  of  Jehovah  is. 
God  hath  had  it  on  His  heart  to  show  to  angels  and  men,  both  how 
excellent  His  love  is,  and  also  how  terrible  His  wrath  is.  Sometimes 
earthly  kings  have  a  mind  to  show  how  terrible  their  wrath  is,  by 
the  extreme  punishments  they  would  execute  on  those  that  provoke 
them.  Nebuchadnezzar,  that  mighty  and  haughty  monarch  of  the 
Chaldean  empire,  was  willing  to  show  his  wrath  when  enraged  with 
Shadrach,  Meshech  and  Abednego ;  and  accordingly  gave  orders 
that  the  burning  fier}^  furnace  shall  be  heated  seven  times  hotter 
than  it  was  before  ;  doubtless  it  was  raised  to  the  utmost  degree  of 
fierceness  that  human  art  could  raise  it;  but  the  great  God  is  also 
willing  to  show  His  wrath,  and  magnify  His  awful  Majesty  and 
mighty  power  in  the  extreme  sufferings  of  His  enemies.  '•  What  if 
God,  willing  to  show  His  wrath,  and  to  make  His  power  known,  en- 
dured with  much  long-suffering,  the  vessels  of  wrath  fitted  to  destruc- 
tion ?"  And  seeing  this  is  His  design,  and  what  He  has  determined, 
to  show  how  terrible  the  unmixed,  unrestrained  wrath,  the  fury  and 
fierceness  of  Jehovah  is,  He  will  do  it  to  effect.  There  will  be  some- 
thing accomplished  and  brought  to  pass  that  will  be  with  a  witness. 
When  the  great  and  angry  God  hath  risen  up  and  executed  His 


SINNERS    IN    THE    HANDS    OF    AN    ANGRY    GOD.       407 

awful  vengeance  on  tlie  poor  sinner,  and  the  ^Yl-etcll  is  actually  suffer- 
ing the  infinite  weight  and  power  of  His  indignation,  then  will  God  • 
call  upon  the  whole  universe  to  behold  that  awful  majesty  and 
mighty  power  that  is  to  be  seen  in  it.  "  And  the  people  shall  be  as 
the  burnings  of  lime,  as  thorns  cut  up  shall  they  be  burnt  in  the  fire. 
Hear  ye,  that  are  afar  off,  what  I  have  done  ;  and  ye  that  are  near, 
acknowledge  My  might.  The  sinners  in  Zion  are  afraid ;  fearful- 
ness  hath  surprised  the  hypocrites,"  etc. 

Thus  it  will  be  with  you  that  are  in  an  unconverted  state,  if  you 
continue  in  it ;  the  infinite  might,  and  majesty,  and  terribleness  of 
the  Omnipotent  God  shall  be  magnified  uj^on  you  in  the  ineffable 
strength  of  your  torments :  you  shall  be  tormented  in  the  ^^resence 
of  the  holy  angels,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  Lamb ;  and  when  you 
shall  be  in  the  state  of  suffering,  the  glorious  inhabitants  of  heaven 
shall  go  forth  and  look  on  the  awful  spectacle,  that  they  may  see 
what  the  wrath  and  fierceness  of  the  Almighty  is ;  and  when  they 
have  seen  it,  they  will  fall  down  and  adore  that  great  Power  and 
Majesty :  "And  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  from  one  new  moon  to  an- 
other, and  from  one  Sabbath  to  another,  shall  all  flesh  come  to  wor- 
ship before  Me,  saith  the  Lord.  And  they  shall  go  forth  and  look 
upon  the  carcasses  of  the  men  that  have  transgressed  against  Me ; 
for  their  worm  shall  not  die,  neither  shall  their  fire  be  quenched,  and 
they  shall  be  an  abhorring  unto  all  flesh." 

4.  It  is  everlasting  wrath.  It  would  be  dreadful  to  suffer  this 
fierceness  and  wrath  of  Almighty  God  one  moment ;  but  you  must 
suffer  it  to  all  eternity :  there  Avill  be  no  end  to  this  exquisite,  horri- 
ble misery ;  when  you  look  forward,  you  shall  see  along  forever  a 
boundless  duration  before  you,  which  will  swallow  up  your  thoughts, 
and  amaze  your  soul ;  and  you  will  absolutely  despair  of  ever 
having  any  deliverance,  any  end,  any  mitigation,  any  rest  at  all ; 
you  will  know  certainly  that  you  must  wear  out  long  ages,  millions 
of  millions  of  ages  in  wrestling  and  conflicting  with  this  Almighty, 
merciless  vengeance ;  and  then  when  you  have  so  done,  when  so 
many  ages  have  actually  been  spent  by  you  in  this  manner,  you  will 
know  that  all  is  but  a  point  to  what  remains,  so  that  your  punish- 
ment will  indeed  be  infinite.  Oh  !  who  can  express  what  the  state 
of  a  soul  in  such  circumstances  is !  All  that  we  can  possibly  say 
about  it,  gives  but  a  very  feeble,  faint  representation  of  it ;  it  is  in- 
expressible and  inconceivable  :  for  "  who  knows  the  power  of  God's 
anger  ?" 

How  dreadful  is  the  state  of  those  that  are  daily  and  hourly  in 
danger  of  this  great  wrath  and  infinite  misery  !     But  this  is  the  dis- 


408  JONATHAN    EDWARDS. 

mal  case  of  every  soul  in  this  congregation  tliat  has  not  been  bom 
again,  however  moral  and  strict,  sober  and  religious  they  may  other- 
wise be.  Oh  !  that  you  w^ould  consider  it,  whether  you  be  young  or 
old  !  There  is  reason  to  think  that  there  are  many  in  this  congregation 
now  hearing  this  discourse,  that  will  actually  be  the  subjects  of  this 
very  misery  to  all  eternity.  We  know  not  who  they  are,  or  in  what 
seats  they  sit,  or  what  thoughts  they  now  have — it  may  be  they  are 
now  at  ease,  and  hear  all  these  things  without  much  disturbance,  and 
are  now  flattering  themselves  that  they  are  not  the  persons; 
promising  themselves  that  they  shall  escape.  If  we  knew  that  there 
was  one  person,  and  but  one,  in  the  whole  congregation,  that  was  to 
be  the  subject  of  this  misery,  what  an  awful  thing  it  would  be  to 
think  of !  If  we  knew  who  it  was,  what  an  awful  sight  it  would  be 
to  see  such  a  person !  How  might  all  the  rest  of  the  congregation 
lift  up  a  lamentable  and  bitter  cry  over  him  !  But,  alas  !  instead  of 
one,  how  many  is  it  likely  will  remember  this  discourse  Id  hell ! 
And  it  would  be  a  wonder,  if  some  that  are  now  present  should  not 
be  in  hell  in  a  very  short  time,  before  this  year  is  out.  And  it 
would  be  no  wonder  if  some  persons,  that  now  sit  here  in  some  seats 
of  this  meeting-house  in  health,  and  quiet  and  secure,  should  be  there 
before  to-morrow  morning  I 


DISCOURSE  SIXTY-EIGHTH. 

SAMUEL    DAVIES. 

Davies  was  born  N'ovember  3d,  1724,  in  Newcastle,  then  in  the 
pro\Tnce  of  Pennsylvania,  but  now  in  the  State  of  Delaware.  He  is 
supposed  to  have  been  of  Welsh  descent.  His  father  died  while  he  was 
young ;  but  the  prayers,  instructions,  and  pious  example  of  his  mother 
were  blessed  in  preparing  hun  for  a  life  of  distmguished  piety  and  use- 
fulness. He  was  converted  at  about  the  age  of  thirteen,  and  soon  after 
formed  the  purpose  of  devoting  hunself  to  the  ministry.  Not  being  able 
to  obtain  a  Collegiate  education,  he  prosecuted  his  studies  in  a  more 
private  manner ;  and  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New- 
castle when  he  was  just  twenty-one  years  of  age.  At  first  he  visited 
several  vacancies,  some  in  Pennsylvania,  some  in  New  Jersey,  some  in 
Maryland,  where  his  preaching  was  much  blessed  ;  but  in  1748  he  located 
at  Hanover,  Pennsylvania.  In  1753  he  was  sent  to  England  to  solicit 
funds  for  Princeton  College.  On  his  return  he  resumed  his  labors  at 
Hanover,  where  he  continued  till  chosen  President  of  Princeton  College 
in  1759,  as  successor  of  Mr.  Edwards.  At  the  close  of  January,  1761,  he 
was  bled  for  a  severe  cold ;  his  arm  became  inflamed,  and  a  violent  fever 
ensued,  to  which  he  fell  a  victim,  February  4,  1761,  aged  36  years. 

Mr.  Davies  was  a  model  of  the  most  striking  pulpit  oratory.  His 
frame  was  tall,  erect,  and  comely ;  his  carriage  easy,  graceful,  and  digni- 
fied, his  voice  clear,  loud,  melodious,  and  well  modulated,  his  natural 
genius  strong  and  masculme,  his  ramd  clear,  his  invention  quick,  his  im- 
agination sprightly  and  florid,  his  thoughts  sublime,  and  his  words  chaste, 
strong,  and  expressive.  He  seldom  preached  without  producing  some 
visible  impression  upon  his  large  audiences.  When  on  a  visit  to  England 
he  was  invited  to  preach  before  George  the  Third.  His  majesty  and  the 
youthful  queen  were  so  enchanted  by  his  eloquence,  that  the  king  inter- 
rupted the  service  with  expressions  of  applause.  The  preacher,  making 
a  pause,  and  fixing  his  eye  upon  the  monarch  said,  "  When  the  lion  roars 
the  beasts  of  the  forest  tremble  ;  when  Jehovah  speaks,  let  the  kings  of 
the  earth  keep  silence !"  Patrick  Henry  lived  for  about  ten  years  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Davies,  and  is  said  to  have  been  stimulated  to  his  mas- 


410  SAMUEL    DAVIES. 

terly  eiforts  by  hearing  Ms  discoiu-ses.     He  often  spoke  of  the  great 
preacher's  abilities  with  enthusiastic  praise. 

The  sermons  of  Davies  were  prepared  with  great  care,  and  generally 
carried  into  the  pulpit,  but  delivered  with  freedom  ■\\ithout  being  con- 
fined to  his  manuscript.  He  often  extemporized,  and  with  marked  effect. 
There  are  few  discourses  more  worthy  of  study  and  frequent  perusal  by 
ministers  than  those  of  Samuel  Davies.  A  friend  of  revivals,  wi'iting 
out  of  a  full  heart,  burnmg  -with  zeal  for  God  and  love  for  perishing 
souls,  no  one  can  read  his  productions  without  bemg  thrilled,  and  aroused, 
and  profited.  The  late  WiUiam  Jay,  in  his  autobiography  says,  "  I  con- 
fess no  discourses  ever  appeared  to  me  better  adapted  to  awaken  the 
conscience  and  impress  the  heart."  "  They  seem  to  have  been  written 
by  a  man  who  never  looked  off  fi-om  the  value  of  a  soul,  and  the  im- 
portance of  eternity."  He  has  discourses  more  lofty  and  overpowering 
than  the  one  here  given;  but  none  more  worthy  of  the  reputation  which 
this  has  acquired  as  a  masterpiece.  This  sweet  discourse,  breathing  the 
compassion  of  Jesus,  may  fitly  succeed  Edwards'  sermon,  flaming  and 
blazinfr  ■s\ith  the  ^^Tath  of  an  avenging  God. 


THE  COMPASSION  OF  CHRIST  TO  WEAK  BELIEVERS. 

"  A  'braised-reed  shall  he  not  break,  and  smoking  flax  shall  he  not  quench." — Matt. 
xii.  20. 

The  Lord  Jesus  possesses  all  those  virtues  in  the  highest  perfec- 
tion, which  render  Him  infinitely  amiable,  and  qualify  Him  for  the 
administration  of  a  just  and  gracious  government  over  the  world. 
The  virtues  of  mortals,  when  carried  to  a  high  degree,  very  often 
run  into  those  vices  which  have  a  kind  of  affinity  to  them.  "  Right, 
too  rigid,  hardens  into  wrong."  Strict  justice  steels  itself  into  ex- 
cessive severity ;  and  the  man  is  lost  in  the  judge.  Goodness  and 
mercy  sometimes  degenerate  into  softness  and  an  irrational  compas- 
sion inconsistent  with  government.  But  in  Jesus  Christ  these  seem- 
ingly opposite  virtues  center  and  harmonize  in  the  highest  perfection, 
without  running  into  extremes.  Hence  He  is  at  once  characterized 
as  a  Lamb,  and  as  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah  :  a  lamb  for  gen- 
tleness toward  humble  penitents,  and  a,  lion  to  tear  His  enemies  in 
pieces.  Christ  is  said  to  "judge  and  make  war,"  and  yet  He  is  called 
"  The  Prince  of  Peace."  He  will  at  length  show  Himself  terrible 
to  the  workers  of  iniquity ;  and  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  are  a  very 
proper  topic  whence  to  persuade  men ;  but  now  He  is  patient  to- 


THE   COMPASSION   OP  CHRIST    TO   WEAK  BELIEVERS.    411 

■ward  all  men,  and  He  is  all  love  and  tenderness  toward  the  meanest 
penitent.  The  meekness  and  gentleness  of  Christ  is  to  be  the  pleas- 
ing entertainment  of  this  day  ;  and  I  enter  upon  it  with  a  particular 
view  to  those  mourning,  desponding  souls  among  us,  whose  weak- 
ness renders  them  in  great  need  of  strong  consolation.  To  such  in 
particular,  I  address  the  words  of  my  text,  "  A  bruised  reed  shall 
He  not  break,  and  smoking  flax  shall  He  not  quench." 

This  is  a  part  of  the  Redeemer's  character,  as  delineated  nearly 
three  thousand  years  ago,  by  the  evangelical  prophet  Isaiah  ;  and  it 
is  expressly  applied  to  Him  by  St.  Matthew :  "  Behold,"  saj-s  the 
Father,  "  My  Servant  whom  I  have  chosen"  for  the  important  under- 
taking of  saving  the  guilty  sons  of  men ;  "  My  Beloved  in  whom 
My  soul  is  well  pleased  ;"  My  very  soul  is  well  pleased  with  His 
faithful  discharge  of  the  important  office  He  has  undertaken.  "  I 
will  put  My  Spirit  upon  Him ;"  that  is,  I  will  completely  furnish 
Him  by  the  gifts  of  My  Spirit  for  His  high  character ;  and  "  He 
shall  show  judgment  to  the  Gentiles ;"  to  the  poor  benighted  Gren- 
tiles  He  shall  show  the  light  of  salvation,  by  revealing  the  Gospel 
to  them ;  which,  in  the  style  of  the  Old  Testament,  may  be  called 
His  judgments.  Or,  He  will  show  and  execute  the  judgment  of  this 
world  by  casting  out  its  infernal  prince,  who  had  so  long  exercised 
an  extensive  cruel  tyranny  over  it.  "  He  shall  not  strive  nor  cry, 
neither  shall  any  man  hear  His  voice  in  the  street ;"  that  is,  though 
He  enters  the  world  as  a  mighty  prince  and  conqueror,  to  establish 
a  kingdom  of  righteousness,  and  overthrow  the  kingdom  of  dark- 
ness, yet  He  will  not  introduce  it  with  the  noisy  terrors  and  thunders 
of  war,  but  shall  show  Himself  mild  and  gentle  as  -the  prince  of 
peace.  Or  the  connection  may  lead  us  to  understand  these  words  in 
a  different  sense,  namely,  He  shall  do  nothing  with  clamorous  osten- 
tation, nor  proclaim  His  wonderful  works,  when  it  shall  answer  no 
valuable  end.  Accordingly  the  verse  of  our  text  stands  thus  con- 
nected :  "  Great  multitudes  followed  Him ;  and  He  healed  them  all, 
and  charged  them  that  they  should  not  make  Him  known.  That  it 
might  be  fulfilled  which  was  spoken  by  Isaiah  the  prophet,  saying, 
— He  shall  not  cry,  neither  shall  any  man  hear  His  voice  in  the 
streets ;"  that  is,  He  shall  not  publish  His  miracles  with  noisy  tri- 
umph in  the  streets  and  other  public  j)laces.  And  when  it  is  said, 
"He  shall  not  strive,"  it  may  refer  to  His  inoffensive,  passive  be- 
havior toward  His  enemies  that  were  plotting  His  death.  For  thus 
we  may  connect  this  quotation  from  Isaiah  with  the  preceding  his- 
tory in  the  chapter  of  our  text :  "  Then  the  Pharisees  went  out,  and 
held  a  council  against  Him,  how  they  might  destroy  Him.   But  when 


412  SAMUEL    DAVIES. 

Jesus  knew  it,"  instead  of  praying  to  His  Father  for  a  guard  of  an- 
gels, or  employing  His  own  miraculous  power  to  destroy  them,  "  He 
withdrew  Himself  from  thence  ;  that  it  might  be  fulfilled  which  was 
spoken  by  the  prophet  Isaiah,  saying — He  shall  not  strive. " 

The  general  meaning  of  my  text  seems  to  be  contained  in  this 
observation  ;  "  That  the  Lord  Jesus  has  the  tenderest  and  most  com- 
passionate regard  to  the  feeblest  penitent,  however  oppressed  and 
desponding ;  and  that  He  will  approve  and  cherish  the  least  spark 
of  true  love  toward  Himself." 

A  bruised  reed  seems  naturally  to  represent  a  soul  at  once  feeble 
in  itself,  and  crushed  with  a  burden;  a  soul  both  weak  and  op- 
pressed. The  reed  is  a  slender,  frail  vegetable  in  itself,  and  there- 
fore a  very  proper  image  to  represent  a  soul  that  is  feeble  and  weak. 
A  bruised  reed  is  still  more  frail,  hangs  its  head,  and  is  unable  to 
stand  without  some  prop.  And  what  can  be  a  more  lively  emblem 
of  a  poor  soul,  not  only  weak  in  itself,  but  bowed  down  and  broken 
under  a  load  of  sin  and  sorrow,  that  droops  and  sinks,  and  is  unable 
to  stand  without  Divine  support  ?  Strength  may  bear  up  under  a 
burden,  or  struggle  with  it,  till  it  has  thrown  it  off;  but  oppressed 
weakness,  frailty  under  a  burden,  what  can  be  more  pitiable  ?  and 
yet  this  is  the  case  of  many  a  poor  penitent  He  is  weak  in  him- 
self, and  in  the  mean  time  crushed  under  a  heavy  weight  of  guilt 
and  distress. 

And  what  would  become  of  such  a  frail  oppressed  creature,  if, 
instead  of  raising  him  up  and  supporting  him,  Jesus  should  tread 
and  crush  him  under  the  foot  of  His  indignation  ?  But  though  a 
reed,  especially  a  bruised  reed,  is  an  insignificant  thing,  of  little  or 
no  use,  yet  "a  bruised  reed  He  will  not  break,"  but  He  raises  it  up 
with  a  gentle  hand,  and  enables  it  to  stand,  though  weak  in  itself, 
and  easily  crushed  in  ruin. 

Perhaps  the  imagery,  when  drawn  at  length,  may  be  this :  "  The 
Lord  Jesus  is  an  Almighty  Conqueror,  marches  in  state  through  our 
world ;  and  here  and  there  a  bruised  reed  lies  in  His  way.  But  in- 
stead of  disregarding  it,  or  trampling  it  under  foot,  He  takes  care 
not  to  break  it :  He  raises  xip  the  drooping  straw,  trifling  as  it  is, 
and  supports  it  with  His  gentle  hand,"  Thus,  poor  broken-hearted 
penitents,  thus  He  takes  care  of  you,  and  supports  you,  worthless 
and  trifling  as  you  are.  Though  you  seem  to  lie  in  the  way  of  His 
justice,  and  it  might  tread  you  with  its  heavy  foot,  yet  He  not  only 
does  not  crush  you,  but  takes  you  up,  and  inspires  you  with  strength 
to  bear  your  burden  and  flourish  again. 


THE   COMPASSION  OF   CHRIST  TO   WEAK  BELIEVERS.    413 

Or  perhq^s  the  imagery  may  be  derived  from  the  practice  of  the 
ancient  shepherds,  who  were  wont  to  amuse  themselves  with  the 
music  of  a  pipe  of  reed  or  straw ;  and  when  it  was  bruised  they 
broke  it,  or  threw  it  away  as  useless.  But  the  bruised  reed  shall 
not  be  broken  by  this  Divine  Shepherd  of  souls.  The  music  of 
broken  sighs  and  groans  is  indeed  all  that  the  broken  reed  can  afford 
Him:  the  notes  are  but  low,  melancholy,  and  jarring:  and  yet  He 
will  not  break  the  instrument,  but  He  will  repair  and  tune  it,  till  it 
is  fit  to  join  in  the  concert  of  angels  on  high ;  and  even  now  its 
humble  strains  are  pleasing  to  His  ears.  Surely  every  broken  heart 
among  us  must  revive,  while  contemj^lating  this  tender  and  moving 
imagerj^ 

The  other  emblem  is  equally  significant  and  affecting.  "  The 
smoking  flax  shall  He  not  quench."  It  seems  to  be  an  allusion  to 
the  wick  of  a  candle  or  lamp,  the  flame  of  which  is  put  out,  but  it 
still  smokes,  and  retains  a  little  fire  which  may  be  again  blown  into 
a  flame,  or  rekindled  by  the  application  of  more  fire.  Many  such 
dying  snuffs  or  smoking  wicks  are  to  be  found  in  the  candlesticks 
of  the  churches,  and  in  the  lamps  of  the  sanctuary.  The  flame  of 
Divine  love  is  just  expiring,  it  is  sunk  into  the  socket  of  a  corrupt 
heart,  and  produces  no  clear  steady  blaze,  but  only  a  smoke  that  is 
disagreeable,  although  it  shows  that  a  spark  of  the  sacred  fire  yet 
remains ;  or  it  produces  a  faint  quivering  flame  that  dies  away,  then 
catches  and  revives,  and  seems  unwilling  to  be  quenched  entirely. 
The  devil  and  the  world  raise  many  storms  of  temptation  to  blow  it 
out ;  and  a  corrupt  heart,  like  a  fountain,  pours  out  water  to  quench 
it.  But  even  this  smoking  flax,  this  djing  snuff,  Jesus  will  not 
quench,  but  He  blows  it  up  into  a  flame,  and  pours  in  the  oil  of  His 
grace  to  recruit  and  nourish  it.  He  walks  among  the  golden  candle- 
sticks, and  trims  the  lamps  of  His  sanctuary.  Where  He  finds 
empty  vessels  without  oil  or  a  spark  of  heavenly  fire,  like  those  of 
the  foolish  virgins,  He  breaks  the  vessels,  or  throws  them  out  of 
His  house.  But  where  He  finds  the  least  spark  of  true  grace,  where 
He  discovers  but  the  glimpse  of  sincere  love  to  Him,  where  He  sees 
the  principle  of  true  piety,  which,  though  just  expiring,  yet  renders 
the  heart  susceptive  of  Divine  love,  as  a  candle  just  put  out  is  easily 
rekindled,  there  He  will  strengthen  the  things  which  remain  and 
are  ready  to  die:  He  will  blow  up  the  dying  snuff  to  a  lively 
flame,  and  cause  it  to  shine  brighter  and  brighter  to  the  per- 
fect day.  Where  there  is  the  least  principle  of  true  holiness  He 
will  cherish  it.  He  will  furnish  the  expiring  lamp  with  fresh  sup- 
plies of  the  oil  of  grace,  and  of  heavenly  fire ;  and  all  the  storms 


414  SAMUEL    DAVIES. 

that  beat  upon  it  sliall  not  be  able  to  put  it  out,  because  sheltered 
hj  His  band. 

I  hope,  my  dear  brethren,  some  of  you  begin  already  to  feel  the 
pleasing  energy  of  this  text.  Are  you  not  ready  to  say,  Blessed 
Jesus!  is  this  Thy  true  character?  Then  Thou  art  just  such  a  Sa- 
viour as  I  want,  and  I  most  willingly  give  up  myself  to  Thee.  You 
are  sensible  you  are  at  best  but  a  bruised  reed,  a  feeble,  shattered, 
useless  thing:  an  untunable,  broken  pipe  of  straw,  that  can  make 
no  proper  music  for  the  entertainment  of  your  Divine  Shepherd. 
Your  heart  is  at  best  but  smoking  flax,  where  the  love  of  God  often 
appears  like  a  dying  snuff;  or  an  expiring  flame  that  quivers  and 
catches,  and  hovers  over  the  lamp,  just  ready  to  go  out.  Such  some 
of  you  probably  feel  yourselves  to  be.  Well,  and  what  think  ye  of 
Christ  ?  "  He  will  not  break  the  bruised  reed,  nor  quench  the  smok- 
ing flax;"  and  therefore,  may  not  even  your  guilty  eyes  look  to  this 
gentle  Saviour  with  encouraging  hope  ?  May  you  not  say  to  Him, 
with  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel,  in  his  last  moments,  "He  is  all  my 
salvation,  and  all  my  desire. 

In  prosecuting  this  subject  I  intend  to  illustrate  the  character  of 
a  weak  believer,  as  represented  in  my  text,  and  then  to  illustrate  the 
care  and  compassion  of  Jesus  Christ  even  for  such  a  poor  weakling. 

I.  I  am  to  illustrate  the  character  of  a  weak  believer,  as  repre- 
sented in  my  text,  by  "a  bruised  reed,  and  smoking  flax." 

The  metaphor  of  a  bruised  reed,  as  I  observed,  seems  most  nat- 
urally to  convey  the  idea  of  a  state  of  weakness  and  oppression. 
And,  therefore,  in  illustrating  it  I  am  naturally  led  to  describe  the 
various  weaknesses  which  a  believer  sometimes  painfully  feels,  and 
to  point  out  the  heavy  burdens  which  he  sometimes  groans  under; 
I  say  sometimes,  for  at  other  times  even  the  weak  believer  finds  him- 
self strong,  "  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  His  might, 
and  strengthened  with  might  by  the  Spirit  in  the  inner  man."  The 
joy  of  the  Lord  is  His  strength :  and  He  "  can  do  all  things  through 
Christ  strengthening  Him."  Even  the  oppressed  believer  at  times 
feels  himself  delivered  from  his  burden,  and  he  can  lift  up  his  droop- 
ing head,  and  walk  upright.  But,  alas !  the  burden  returns,  and 
crushes  him  again.  And  under  some  burden  or  other  many  honest- 
hearted  believers  groan  out  the  most  part  of  their  lives. 

Let  us  now  see  what  are  those  weaknesses  which  a  believer  feels 
and  laments.  He  finds  himself  weak  in  knowledge ;  a  simple  child 
in  the  knowledge  of  God  and  Divine  things.  He  is  weak  in  love ; 
the  sacred  flame  does  not  rise  with  a  perpetual  fervor,  and  diffuse 
itself  through  all  his  devotions,  but  at  times  it  languishes  and  dies 


THE   COMPASSION  OF   CHRIST  TO   WEAK  BELIEVERS.    4I5 

away  into  a  smoking  snuif.  He  is  weak  in  faith  ;  he  can  not  keep 
a  strong  hold  of  the  Ahuightj,  can  not  suspend  his  all  upon  His 
promises  with  cheerful  confidence,  nor  build  a  firm,  immovable  fab- 
ric of  hope  upon  the  rock  Jesus  Christ.  He  is  weak  in  hope ;  his 
hope  is  dashed  with  rising  billows  of  fears  and  jealousies,  and  some- 
times just  overset.  He  is  weak  in  joy ;  he  can  not  extract  the  sweets 
of  Christianity,  nor  taste  the  comforts  of  his  religion.  He  is  weak 
in  zeal  for  God  and  the  interests  of  His  kingdom ;  he  would  wish 
himself  always  a  flaming  seraph,  always  glowing  with  zeal,  always 
unwearied  in  serving  his  God,  and  promoting  the  designs  of  redeem- 
ing love  in  the  world ;  but,  alas!  at 'times  his  zeal,  with  his  love, 
languishes  and  dies  away  into  a  smoking  snuff.  He  is  weak  in 
repentance ;  troubled  with  that  plague  of  plagues,  a  hard  heart. 
He  is  weak  in  the  conflict  with  indwelling  sin,  that  is  perpetually 
making  insurrections  within  him.  He  is  weak  in  resisting  tempta- 
tions; which  crowd  upon  him  from  without,  and  are  often  likely  to 
overwhelm  him.  He  is  weak  in  courage  to  encounter  the  king  of 
terrors,  and  venture  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 
He  is  weak  in  prayer,  in  importunity,  in  filial  boldness,  in  approach- 
ing the  mercy-seat.  He  is  weak  in  abilities  to  endeavor  the  conver- 
sion of  sinners  and  save  souls  from  death.  In  short,  he  is  weak  in 
every  thing  in  which  he  should  be  strong.  He  has  indeed,  like  the 
church  of  Philadelphia,  a  little  strength,  and  at  times  he  feels  it ; 
but  oh  !  it  seems  to  him  much  too  little  for  the  work  he  has  to  do. 
These  weaknesses  or  defects  the  believer  feels,  painfully  and  tenderly 
feels,  and  bitterly  laments.  A  sense  of  them  keeps  him  upon  his 
guard  against  temptations :  he  is  not  venturesome  in  rushing  into 
the  combat.  He  would  not  parley  with  temptation,  but  would  keep 
out  of  its  way  ;  nor  would  he  run  the  risk  of  a  defeat  by  an  osten- 
tatious experiment  of  his  strength.  This  sense  of  weakness  also 
keeps  him  dependent  upon  Divine  strength.  He  clings  to  that  sup- 
port given  to  St.  Paul  in  an  hour  of  hard  conflict,  "  My  grace  is 
suificient  for  thee ;  for  My  strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness ;" 
and  when  a  sense  of  his  weakness  has  this  happy  effect  upon  him, 
then  with  St.  Paul  he  has  reason  to  say,  "  When  I  am  weak,  then  am 
I  strong." 

I  say  the  believer  feels  and  laments  these  weaknesses ;  and  this  is 
the  grand  distinction  in  this  case  between  him  and  the  rest  of  the  world. 
They  are  the  weak  too,  much  weaker  than  he ;  nay,  they  have,  prop- 
erly, no  spiritual  strength  at  all ;  but,  alas !  they  do  not  feel  their  weak- 
ness, but  the  poor  vain  creatures  boast  of  their  strength,  and  think 
they  can  do  great  things  when  they  are  disposed  for  them.     Or  if 


416  SAMUEL    DAY lES. 

their  repeated  falls  and  defeats  by  temptation  extort  tbem  to  a  con- 
fession of  their  weakness,  thej  plead  it  rather  as  an  excuse  than  la- 
ment it  as  at  once  a  crime  and  a  calamity.  But  the  poor  believer 
tries  no  such  artifice  to  extenuate  his  guilt.  He  is  sensible  that  even 
his  weakness  itself  has  guilt  in  it,  and  therefore  he  laments  it  with 
ingenuous  sorrow  among  his  other  sins. 

Now,  have  I  not  delineated  the  very  character  of  some  of  you? 
such  weaklings,  such  frail  reeds  you  feel  yourselves  to  be  !  Well, 
hear  this  kind  assurance — Jesus  will  not  break  such  a  feeble  reed, 
but  He  will  support  and  strengthen  it. 

But  you,  perhaps,  not  only  feel  you  are  weak,  but  you  are  op- 
pressed with  some  heavy  burden  or  other.  You  are  not  only  a  reed 
for  weakness,  but  you  are  a  bruised  reed,  trodden  under  foot, 
crushed  under  a  load.  Even  this  is  no  unusual  or  discouraging  case ; 
for 

The  weak  believer  often  feels  himself  crushed  under  some  heavy 
burden.  Tlie  frail  reed  is  often  bruised ;  bruised  under  a  due  sense 
of  guilt.  Guilt  lies  heavy  at  times  upon  his  conscience,  and  he  can 
not  throw  it  off.  Bruised  with  a  sense  of  remaining  sin,  which  he 
finds  still  strong  within  him,  and  which  at  times  prevails  and  treads 
him  under  foot.  Bruised  under  a  burden  of  wants,  the  want  of  ten- 
derness of  heart,  of  ardent  love  to  God  and  mankind,  the  want  of 
heavenly-mindedness  and  victory  over  the  world  ;  the  want  of  con- 
duct and  resolution  to  direct  his  behavior  in  a  passage  so  intricate 
and  difl&cult,  and  the  want  of  nearer  intercourse  with  the  Father  and 
His  Spirit ;  in  short,  a  thousand  pressing  wants  crush  and  bruise 
him.  He  also  feels  his  share  of  the  calamities  of  life  in  common 
with  other  men.  But  these  burdens  I  shall  take  no  further  notice 
of,  because  they  are  not  peculiar  to  him  as  a  believer,  nor  do  they 
lie  heaviest  upon  his  heart.  He  could  easily  bear  up  under  the 
calamities  of  life  if  his  spiritual  wants  were  supplied,  and  the  burden 
of  guilt  and  sin  were  removed.  Under  these  last  he  groans  and 
sinks.  Indeed  these  burdens  lie  with  all  their  full  weight  upon  the 
world  around  him  ;  but  they  are  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,  and 
feel  them  not ;  they  do  not  groan  under  them,  nor  labor  for  deliver- 
ance from  them.  They  lie  contented  under  them,  with  more  stupid- 
ity than  beasts  of  burden,  till  they  sink  under  the  intolerable  load 
into  the  depth  of  misery.  But  the  poor  believer  is  not  so  stupid, 
and  his  tender  heart  feels  the  burden  and  groans  under  it.  "  We  that 
are  in  this  tabernacle,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  do  groan,  being  burdened." 
The  believer  understands  feelingly  that  pathetic  exclamation,  "0 
wretched  man  that  I  am !  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of 


THE   COMPASSION   OF   CHRIST   TO   WEAK  BELIEVERS.     417 

this  death  ?"  He  can  not  be  easy  till  his  conscience  is  appeased  by 
a  well-attested  pardon  through  the  blood  of  Christ ;  and  the  sins  he 
feels  working  within  him  are  a  real  burden  and  uneasiness  to  him, 
though  they  should  never  break  out  into  action,  and  publicly  dis- 
honor his  holy  profession. 

And  is  not  this  the  very  character  of  some  poor  oppressed  crea- 
tures among  you  ?  I  hope  it  is.  You  may  look  upon  your  case  to 
be  very  discouraging,  but  Jesus  looks  upon  it  in  a  more  favorable 
light ;  He  looks  upon  you  as  proper  objects  of  His  compassionate 
care.     Bruised  as  you  are,  He  will  bind  up  and  support  you. 

n.  But  I  proceed  to  take  a  view  of  the  character  of  a  weak 
Christian,  as  represented  in  the  other  metaphor  of  my  text,  namely, 
"  smoking  flax."  The  idea  most  naturally  conveyed  by  this  meta- 
phor is,  that  of  grace  true  and  sincere,  but  languishing  and  just  ex- 
piring, like  a  candle  just  blown  out,  which  still  smokes  and  retains 
a  feeble  spark  of  fire.  It  signifies  a  susceptibility  of  a  further  grace, 
or  a  readiness  to  catch  that  sacred  fire,  as  a  candle  just  put  out  is 
easily  rekindled.  This  metaphor,  therefore,  leads  me  to  describe  the 
reality  of  religion  in  a  low  degree,  or  to  delineate  the  true  Christian 
in  his  most  languishing  hours.  And  in  so  doing  I  shall  mention 
those  dispositions  and  exercises  which  the  weakest  Christian  feels, 
even  in  these  melancholy  seasons  ;  for  even  in  these  he  widely  dif- 
fers still  from  the  most  polished  hypocrite  in  his  highest  improve- 
ments. On  this  subject  let  me  solicit  your  most  serious  attention  ; 
for  if  you  have  the  least  spark  of  real  religion  within  you,  you  are 
now  likely  to  discover  it,  as  I  am  not  going  to  rise  to  the  high  at- 
tainments of  Christians  of  the  first  rank,  but  to  stoop  to  the  charac- 
ter of  the  meanest.  Now  the  peculiar  dispositions  and  exercises  of 
heart  which  such  in  some  measure  feel,  you  may  discover  from  the 
following  short  history  of  their  case. 

The  weak  Christian,  in  such  languishing  hours,  does  indeed 
sometimes  fall  into  such  a  state  of  carelessness  and  insensibility  that 
he  has  very  few  and  but  superficial  exercises  of  mind  about  divine 
things.  But  generally  he  feels  an  uneasiness,  an  emptiness,  an 
anxiety  within,  under  which  he  droops  and  pines  away,  and  all  the 
world  can  not  heal  the  disease.  He  has  chosen  the  blessed  God  as 
his  supreme  happiness ;  and  when  he  can  not  derive  happiness  from 
that  source,  all  the  sweets  of  created  enjoyments  become  insipid  to 
him,  and  can  not  fill  up  the  prodigious  void  which  the  absence  of 
the  Supreme  Good  leaves  in  his  craving  soul.  Sometimes  his  anxiety 
is  indistinct  and  confused,  and  he  hardly  knows  what  ails  him ;  but 
at  other  times  he  feels  it  is  for  God,  the  living  God,  that  his  soul 

27 


418  SAMUEL    DAYIES. 

pants.  The  evaporations  of  this  smoking  flax  naturally  ascend  to- 
ward heaven.  He  knows  that  he  never  can  be  happy  till  he  can 
enjoy  the  communications  of  divine  love.  Let  him  turn  which  way 
he  will,  he  can  find  no  solid  ease,  no  rest,  till  he  comes  to  this  center 
again. 

Even  at  such  times  he  can  not  be  thoroughly  reconciled  to  his 
sins.  He  may  be  parleying  with  some  of  them  in  an  unguarded 
hour,  and  seem  to  be  negotiating  a  peace ;  but  the  truce  is  soon 
ended,  and  they  are  at  variance  again.  The  enmity  of  a  renewed 
heart  soon  rises  against  this  old  enemy.  And  there  is  this  circum- 
stance remarkable  in  the  believer's  hatred  and  opposition  to  sin,  that 
they  do  not  proceed  principally,  much  less  entirely,  from  a  fear  of 
punishment,  but  from  a  generous  sense  of  its  intrinsic  baseness  and 
ingratitude,  and  its  contrariety  to  the  holy  nature  of  God.  This  is 
the  ground  of  his  hatred  to  sin,  and  sorrow  for  it ;  and  this  shows 
that  there  is  at  least  a  spark  of  true  grace  in  his  heart,  and  that  he 
does  not  act  altogether  from  the  low,  interested,  and  mercenary  prin- 
ciples of  nature. 

At  such  times  he  is  very  jealous  of  the  sincerity  of  his  religion, 
afraid  that  all  his  past  experiences  were  delusive,  and  afraid  that,  if 
he  should  die  in  his  present  state,  he  would  be  forever  miserable.  A 
very  anxious  state  is  this  !  The  stupid  world  can  lie  secure  while 
this  grand  concern  lies  in  the  most  dreadful  suspense.  But  the  ten- 
der-hearted believer  is  not  capable  of  such  fool-hardiness  :  he  shud- 
ders at  the  thought  of  everlasting  separation  from  that  God  and  Sav- 
iour whom  he  loves.  He  loves  Him,  and  therefore  the  fear  of  sepa- 
ration from  Him  fills  him  with  all  the  anxiety  of  bereaved  love. 
This  to  him  is  the  most  painful  ingredient  of  the  punishment  of  hell. 
Hell  would  be  a  sevenfold  hell  to  a  lover  of  God,  because  it  is  a 
state  of  banishment  from  Him  whom  he  loves.  He  could  forever 
languish  and  pine  away  under  the  consuming  distresses  of  widowed 
love,  which  those  that  love  him  can  not  feel.  And  has  God  kindled 
the  sacred  flame  in  his  heart  in  order  to  render  him  capable  of  the 
more  exquisite  pain !  Will  He  exclude  from  His  presence  the  poor 
creature  that  clings  to  Him,  and  languishes  for  Him  !  No,  the  flax 
that  does  but  smoke  with  His  love  was  never  intended  to  be  fuel  for 
hell ;  but  He  will  blow  it  up  into  a  flame,  and  nourish  it  till  it 
mingles  with  the  seraphic  ardors  in  the  region  of  perfect  love. 

The  weak  believer  seems  sometimes  driven  by  the  tempest  of 
lusts  and  temptation  from  off  the  rock  of  Jesus  Christ.  But  he 
makes  toward  it  on  the  stormy  billows,  and  labors  to  lay  hold  upon 
it,  and  recover  his  station  there ;  for  he  is  sensible  there  is  no  other 


THE   COMPASSION   OF   CHRIST   TO   WEAK   BELIEVERS.     419 

foundation  of  safety ;  but  that  without  Christ  he  must  perish  forever. 
It  is  the  habitual  disposition  of  the  believer's  soul  to  depend  upon 
Jesus  Christ  alone.  He  retains  a  kind  of  direction  or  tendency  to- 
ward Him,  like  the  needle  touched  with  the  loadstone  toward  the 
pole ;  and  if  his  heart  is  turned  from  its  course,  it  trembles  and 
quivers  till  it  gains  its  favorite  point  again,  and  fixes  there.  Some- 
times indeed  a  consciousness  of  guilt  renders  him  shy  of  his  God  and 
Saviour ;  and  after  such  base  ingratitude  he  is  ashamed  to  go  to 
Him  ;  but  at  length  necessity  as  well  as  inclination  constrains  him, 
and  he  is  obliged  to  cry  out,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  I  go  ?  Thou 
hast  the  words  of  eternal  life  :"  in  Thee  alone  I  find  rest  to  my  soul ; 
and  therefore  to  Thee  I  must  fly,  though  I  am  ashamed  and  con- 
founded to  appear  in  Thy  presence. 

In  short,  the  weakest  Christian  upon  earth  sensibly  feels  that  his 
comfort  rises  and  falls,  as  he  lives  nearer  to  or  further  from  his  God. 
The  love  of  God  has  such  a  habitual  predominancy  even  in  his 
heart,  that  nothing  in  the  world,  nor  even  all  the  world  together,  can 
fill  np  His  place.  No,  when  He  is  gone,  heaven  and  earth  can  not 
replenish  the  mighty  void.  Even  the  weakest  Christian  upon  earth 
longs  to  be  delivered  from  sin,  from  all  sin,  without  exception :  and 
a  body  of  death  hanging  about  him  is  the  burden  of  his  life.  Even 
the  poor,  jealous,  languishing  Christian  has  his  hope,  all  the  little 
hojDC  that  he  has,  built  upon  Jesus  Christ.  Even  this  smoking  flax 
sends  up  some  exhalations  of  love  toward  heaven.  Even  the  poor 
creature  that  often  fears  he  is  altogether  a  slave  to  sin,  honestly, 
though  feebly  labors  to  be  holy,  to  be  holy  as  an  angel,  yea,  to  be 
holy,  as  God  is  holy.  He  has  a  heart  that  feels  the  attractive  charms 
of  holiness,  and  he  is  so  captivated  by  it,  that  sin  can  never  recover 
its  former  place  in  his  heart ;  no,  the  tyrant  is  forever  dethroned,  and 
the  believer  would  rather  die  than  yield  himself  a  tame  slave  to  the 
usurped  tyranny  again. 

Thus  I  have  delineated  to  you,  in  the  plainest  manner  I  could, 
the  character  of  a  weak  Christian.  Some  of  you,  1  am  afraid,  can 
not  lay  claim  even  to  this  low  character.  If  so,  you  may  be  sure 
you  are  not  true  Christians  even  of  the  lowest  rank.  You  may  be 
sure  you  have  not  the  least  spark  of  true  religion  in  your  hearts,  but 
are  utterly  destitute  of  it. 

But  some  of  you,  I  hope,  can  say,  "  Well,  after  all  my  doubts  and 
fears,  if  this  be  the  character  of  a  true,  though  weak  Christian,  then 
I  may  humbly  hope  that  I  am  one.  I  am  indeed  confirmed  in  it, 
that  I  am  less  than  the  least  of  all  other  saints  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth,  but  yet  I  see  that  I  am  a  saint ;  for  thus  has  my  heart  been 


420  SAMUEL    DAVIES. 

exercised,  even  in  my  dark  and  languishing  hours.  This  secret  un- 
easiness and  pining  anxiety,  this  thirst  for  God,  for  the  living  God, 
this  tendency  of  soul  toward  Jesus  Christ,  this  implacable  enmity  to 
sin,  this  panting  and  struggling  after  holiness,  these  things  have  I 
often  felt."  And  have  you  indeed  ?  Then  away  with  your  doubts 
and  jealousies ;  away  with  your  fears  and  despondencies !  There  is 
at  least  an  immortal  spark  kindled  in  your  hearts,  which  the  united 
power  of  men  and  devils,  of  sin  and  temptation,  shall  never  be  able 
to  quench.  No,  it  shall  yet  rise  into  a  flame,  and  burn  with  seraphic 
ardors  forever. 

For  your  further  encouragement,  I  proceed, 

II.  To  illustrate  the  care  and  compassion  of  Jesus  Christ  for  such 
poor  weaklings  as  you. 

This  may  appear  a  needless  task  to  some :  for  who  is  there  that 
does  not  believe  it  ?  But  to  such  would  I  say,  it  is  no  easy  thing  to 
establish  a  trembling  soul  in  the  full  belief  of  this  truth.  It  is  easy 
for  one  that  does  not  see  his  danger,  and  does  not  feel  his  extreme 
need  of  salvation,  and  the  difficulty  of  the  work,  to  beheve  that  Christ 
is  willing  and  able  to  save  him.  But  0 !  to  a  poor  soul,  deeply  sens- 
ible of  its  condition,  this  is  no  easy  matter.  Besides,  the  heart  may 
need  be  more  deeply  affected  with  this  truth,  though  the  understand- 
ing should  need  no  further  arguments  of  the  speculative  kind  for  its 
conviction ;  and  to  impress  this  truth  is  my  present  design. 

For  this  purpose  I  need  but  read  and  paraphrase  to  you  a  few  of 
the  many  kind  declarations  and  assurances  which  Jesus  has  given  us 
in  His  Word,  and  relate  the  happy  experiences  of  some  of  His  saints 
there  recorded,  who  found  Him  true  and  faithful  to  His  word. 

The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  seems  to  have  a  peculiar  tenderness  for  the 
poor,  the  mourners,  the  broken-hearted ;  and  these  are  peculiarly  the 
objects  of  His  mediatorial  office.  "  The  Lord  hath  anointed  Me  (says 
He)  to  preach  good  tidings  to  the  meek ;  He  hath  sent  Me  (all  the 
way  from  My  native  heaven  down  to  earth,  upon  this  compassionate 
errand)  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  appoint  unto  them  that 
mourn  in  Zion,  to  give  unto  them  beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy  for 
mourning,  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness."  "  Thus 
saith  the  Lord  (in  strains  of  majesty  that  become  Him),  The  heaven  is 
My  throne,  and  the  earth  is  My  footstool :  where  is  the  house  that  ye 
build  unto  Me?  and  where  is  the  place  of  My  rest?  For  all  things 
hath  My  hands  made,  saith  the  Lord."  Had  He  spoken  uniformly 
in  this  majestic  language  to  us  guilty  worms,  the  declaration  might 
have  overwhelmed  us  with  awe,  but  could  not  have  inspired  us  with 
hope.     But  He  advances  Himself  thus  high,  on  purpose  to  let  us  see 


THE   COMPASSION  OF  CHRIST   TO   WEAK  BELIEVERS.    421 

how  low  He  can  stoop.  Hear  the  encouraging  sequel  of  this  His  ma- 
jestic speech :  "  To  this  man  will  I  look,  even  to  him  that  is  poor, 
and  of  a  contrite  spirit,  and  trembleth  at  My  word."  Let  heaven  and 
earth  wonder  that  He  will  look  down  through  all  the  shining  ranks 
of  angels,  and  look  by  princes  and  nobles,  to  fix  His  eye  upon  this 
man,  this  poor  man,  this  contrite,  broken-hearted,  trembling  creature. 
He  loves  to  dwell  upon  this  subject,  and  therefore  you  hear  it  again 
in  the  same  prophecy :  "  Thus  saith  the  high  and  lofty  One  that  in- 
habiteth  eternity,  whose  name  is  holy," — what  does  He  say?  "I 
dwell  in  the  high  and  holy  place."  This  is  said  in  character.  This 
is  a  dwelling  in  some  measure  worthy  the  inhabitant.  But  0  !  will 
He  stoop  to  dwell  in  a  lower  mansion,  or  pitch  His  tent  among  mor- 
tals? yes,  He  dwells  not  only  in  His  "  high  and  holy  place,"  but 
also  "  with  him  that  is  of  a  contrite  and  humb)le  spirit,  to  revive  the 
spirit  of  the  humble,  and  to  revive  the  heart  of  the  contrite  ones." 
He  charges  Peter  to  "  feed  His  lambs"  as  well  as  His  sheep ;  that  is, 
to  take  the  tenderest  care  even  of  the  weakest  in  His  flock.  And  He 
severely  rebukes  the  shepherds  of  Israel,  "  Because  (says  He)  ye  have 
not  strengthened  the  diseased,  neither  have  ye  healed  that  which  was 
sick,  neither  have  ye  bound  up  that  which  was  broken."  But  what 
an  amiable  reverse  in  the  character  of  the  great  Shepherd  and  Bishop 
of  souls  !  "  Behold  (says  Isaiah)  the  Lord  will  come  with  a  strong 
hand,  and  His  arm  shall  rule  for  Him :  behold  His  reward  is  with 
Him,  and  His  work  is  before  Him."  How  justly  may  we  tremble  at 
this  proclamation  of  the  approaching  God  !  for  who  can  stand  when 
He  appeareth  ?  But  how  agreeably  are  our  fears  disappointed  in 
what  follows  ?  If  He  comes  to  take  vengeance  on  His  enemies,  He 
also  comes  to  show  mercy  to  the  meanest  of  His  people.  "  He  shall 
feed  His  flock  like  a  shepherd.  He  shall  gather  the  lambs  with  His 
arms,  and  carry  them  in  His  bosom,  and  shall  gently  lead  those  that 
are  with  young,"  that  is.  He  shall  exercise  the  tenderest  and  most 
compassionate  care  toward  the  meanest  and  weakest  of  His  flock. 
"  He  looked  down  (says  the  Psalmist)  from  the  height  of  His  sanctu- 
ary ;  from  heaven  did  the  Lord  behold  the  earth ;"  not  to  view  the 
grandeur  and  pride  of  courts  and  kings,  nor  the  heroic  exploits  of 
conquerors,  but  "to  hear  the  groaning  of  the  prisoner,  to  loose  those 
that  are  appointed  to  die.  He  will  regard  the  prayer  of  the  destitute, 
and  not  despise  their  prayer.  This  shall  be  written  for  the  genera- 
tion to  come."  It  was  written  for  your  encouragement,  my  brethren. 
Above  three  thousand  years  ago,  this  encouraging  passage  was  en- 
tered into  the  sacred  records  for  the  support  of  poor  desponding  souls 
in  Virginia,  in  the  ends  of  the  earth.     O  what  an  early  provident  care 


422  SAMUEL    DAYIES, 

does  God  show  for  His  people !  There  are  none  of  the  seven  churches 
of  Asia  so  highly  commended  by  Christ  as  that  of  Philadelphia ;  and 
yet  in  commending  her,  all  He  can  say  is,  "  Thou  hast  a  little 
strength."  "  I  know  thy  works ;  behold  I  have  set  before  thee  an 
open  door,  and  no  man  can  shut  it,  for  thou  hast  a  little  strength." 
O  how  acceptable  is  a  little  strength  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  how  ready 
is  He  to  improve  it.  "  He  giveth  power  to  the  faint  (says  Isaiah), 
and  to  them  that  have  no  might  He  increaseth  strength."  Hear  fur- 
ther what  words  of  grace  and  truth  flowed  from  the  lips  of  Jesus. 
"Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest :  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart."  "  Him  that  com- 
eth  unto  Me,  I  will  in  nowise  cast  out."  "  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him 
come  unto  Me  and  drink."  "  Let  him  that  is  athirst  come,  and  who- 
soever will,  let  him  come  and  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely."  0 
what  strong  consolation  is  here !  what  exceedingly  great  and  precious 
promises  are  these !  I  might  easily  add  to  the  catalogue,  but  these 
may  sufiice. 

Let  us  now  see  how  His  people  in  every  age  have  ever  found 
these  promises  made  good.  Here  David  may  be  consulted  instar 
omnium,  and  he  will  tell  you,  pointing  to  himself,  "  This  poor  man 
cried,  and  the  Lord  heard  and  delivered  him  out  of  his  troubles." 
St.  Paul,  in  the  midst  of  aflEliction,  calls  God  "  the  Father  of  mercies, 
and  God  of  all  comfort,  who  comforteth  us  in  all  our  tribulation." 
"  God  (says  he),  that  comforteth  those  that  are  cast  down,  comforteth 
us."  What  a  sweetly  emphatic  declaration  is  this !  "  God,  the  com- 
forter of  the  humble,  comforted  us."  He  is  not  only  the  Lord  of 
hosts,  the  King  of  kings,  the  Creator  of  the  world,  but  among  His 
more  august  characters  He  assumes  this  title,  the  Comforter  of  "the 
humble."  Such  St.  Paul  found  Him  in  an  hour  of  temptation,  when 
he  had  this  supporting  answer  to  his  repeated  prayer  for  deliverance, 
"  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee  ;  for  My  strength  is  made  perfect  in 
weakness."  Since  this  was  the  case,  since  his  weakness  was  more 
than  supplied  by  the  strength  of  Christ,  and  was  a  foil  to  set  it  off, 
St.  Paul  seems  quite  regardless  what  infirmities  he  labored  under. 
Nay,  "  Most  gladly  (says  he)  will  I  rather  glory  in  my  infirmities, 
that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest  upon  me.  Therefore  I  take  pleas- 
ure in  infirmities — for  when  I  am  weak,  then  am  I  strong,"  He 
could  take  no  pleasure  in  feeling  himself  weak :  but  the  mortification 
was  made  up  by  the  pleasure  he  found  in  leaning  upon  this  almighty 
support.  His  wounds  were  painful  to  him  :  but  oh  !  the  pleasure  he 
found  in  feeling  the  Divine  Physician  dressing  his  wounds,  in  some 
measure  swallowed  up  the  pain.     It  was  probably  experience,  as  well 


THE   COMPASSION   OF   CHRIST   TO   WEAK  BELIEVERS.    423 

as  inspiration,  tliat  dictated  to  the  apostle  tliat  amiable  cliaractcr  of 
Christ,  that  He  is  a  "merciful  and  faithfal  High  Priest,  who  being 
Himself  tempted,  knows  how  to  succor  them  that  are  tempted."  And 
"  we  have  not  a  high  priest  which  can  not  be  touched  with  the  feel- 
ing of  our  infirmities,  but  was  in  all  points  tempted  like  as  wc  are, 
yet  without  sin." 

But  why  need  I  multiply  arguments?  Go  to  His  cross,  and 
there  learn  His  love  and  compassion,  from  His  groans  and  wounds, 
and  blood,  and  death.  Would  He  hang  there  in  such  agony  for  sin- 
ners if  He  were  not  willing  to  save  them,  and  cherish  every  good 
principle  in  them  ?  There  you  may  have  much  the  same  evidence 
of  His  compassion  as  Thomas  had  of  His  resurrection ;  you  may 
look  into  His  hands,  and  see  the  print  of  the  nails  ;  and  into  His  side, 
and  see  the  scar  of  the  spear ;  which  loudly  proclaims  his  readiness 
to  pity  and  help  you. 

And  now,  poor,  trembling,  doubting  souls,  what  hinders  but  you 
should  rise  up  your  drooping  head,  and  take  courage  ?  May  you 
not  venture  your  souls  into  such  compassionate  and  faithful  hands  ? 
Why  should  the  bruised  reed  shrink  from  Him,  when  He  comes  not 
to  tread  it,  down,  but  raise  it  up  ? 

As  I  am  really  solicitous  that  impenitent  hearts  among  us  should 
be  pierced  with  the  medicinal  anguish  and  sorrow  of  conviction  and 
repentance — and  the  most  friendly  heart  can  not  form  a  kinder  wish, 
for  them — so  I  am  truly  solicitous  that  every  honest  soul,  in  which 
there  is  the  least  spark  of  true  piety,  should  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  it. 
It  is  indeed  to  be  lamented  that  they  who  have  a  title  to  so  much 
happiness  should  enjoy  so  little  of  it ;  it  is  very  incongruous  that  they 
should  go  bowing  their  head  in  their  way  toward  heaven,  as  if  they 
were  hastening  to  the  place  of  execution,  and  that  they  should  serve 
so  good  a  Master  with  such  heavy  hearts.  0  lift  up  the  hands  that 
hang  down,  and  strengthen  the  feeble  knees  !  "  Comfort  ye,  com- 
fort ye,  My  people,  saith  your  God.  Be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in 
the  power  of  His  might."  Trust  in  your  all-sufficient  Kedeemer ; 
trust  in  Him  though  He  should  slay  you. 

And  do  not  indulge  causeless  doubts  and  fears  concerning  your 
sincerit}^  When  they  arise  in  your  minds,  examine  them,  and 
search  whether  there  be  any  sufficient  reason  for  them ;  and  if  you 
discover  there  is  not,  then  reject  them  and  set  them  at  defiance,  and 
entertain  your  hopes  in  spite  of  them,  and  say  with  the  Psalmist, 
"  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  0  my  soul,  and  why  art  thou  disquieted 
within  me?  Hope  thou  in  God,  for  I  shall  yet  praise  Him,  the 
health  of  my  countenance,  and  my  God." 


DISCOURSE    SIXTY.NINTH 

JOHN    H.    LIVINGSTON,    D.  D.,  S.  T.  P. 

The  celebrated  President  of  Queen's  College,  New  Jersey,  was  born 
iia  1747,  and  regularly  graduated  at  Yale  College.  In  May,  1766,  he 
went  to  Holland  to  jDrosecute  his  studies  in  theology  in  the  University 
of  Utrecht,  where  he  remained  four  years.  Upon  his  return  to  America, 
he  became  the  pastor  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church,  in  the  city  of 
New  York.  At  this  period  the  Dutch  churches  in  the  United  States, 
were  divided  into  the  "  Conferentic  and  Coetus  parties."  It  was  mainly 
by  means  of  Dr.  Livingston  that  a  happy  union  Avas  eifected  in  1772, 
and  the  Dutch  Church  became  independent  of  the  Classis  in  Amsterdam. 
In  1784  he  was  appointed  Theological  Professor  in  connection  with  the 
denomination  to  which  he  belonged.  The  duties  of  minister  and  pro- 
fessor he  performed  until  1810,  when  he  was  appointed  President  of 
Queen's  College,  in  which  position  he  remainted  tiU  the  time  of  his  de- 
cease in  1825. 

But  few  of  the  sermons  of  Dr.  Livingston  have  been  preserved, 
which  is  much  to  be  regretted.  That  which  is  here  given,  was  preached 
before  the  N.  Y.  Missionary  Society,  April  3,  1804;  and  besides  its  high 
intrmsic  value,  has  a  special  historic  interest,  from  its  connection  with 
the  great  missionary  movements  in  this  country.  It  made  a  profound 
impression  at  the  time  of  its  delivery ;  but  afterward,  in  the  printed 
form,  it  reached  Williams  College,  and  fell  into  the  hands  of  some  of  the 
pious  students,  among  whom  were  Samuel  J.  Mills,  Gordon  Hall,  and 
Richards.  These  young  men  took  with  them  this  very  sermon  in  their 
visits  to  the  meadow  on  the  bank  of  the  Hoosac  river,  whither  they  re- 
paired Saturday  afternoons  for  consultation  and  prayer  as  to  a  mission 
to  the  heathen.  Here,  by  the  famous  hay-stacks,  under  which  they 
gathered,  they  pored  over  these  words  of  Avisdom  and  fervid  eloquence 
on  a  theme,  which,  in  those  days,  was  comparatively  new.  How  much 
is  to  be  attributed,  therefore,  to  the  influence  of  this  discourse,  is  known 
only  to  the  Great  Head  of  the  Church. 

A  few  paragraphs  tOAvard  the  conclusion,  of  a  more  local  character, 
are  omitted.  It  may  be  proper,  also,  to  add,  that  we  have  gathered  the 
facts  just  referred  to  as  to  this  sermon,  from  the  venerable  Dr.  Ludlow, 
Professor  in  the  Theological  Seminary,  New  Brunswick,  N.  J. 


THE    ANGEL    WITH    THE    EVERLASTING    GOSPEL.      425 

THE   FLIGHT  OF  THE   ANGEL  WITH  THE   EVERLAST- 
ING GOSPEL. 

"  And  I  saw  another  angel  fly  in  the  midst  of  heaven,  having  the  everlasting  Gospel 
to  preach  unto  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth,  and  to  every  nation,  and  kindred,  and 
tongue,  and  people,  saying,  with  a  loud  voice,  Fear  God,  and  give  glory  to  Ilim  ;  for  the 
hour  of  His  judgment  is  come ;  and  worship  Him  that  made  heaven,  and  earth,  and  the 
sea,  and  the  fountains  of  waters." — Revelation,  xiv.  6,  7. 

The  glorj  of  God,  the  love  of  Christ,  and  the  salvation  of  sin- 
ners, suggest  constraining  motives  for  propagating  the  Gospel.  The 
command  to  ''  teach  all  nations,"  and  the  promise  that  the  word  shall 
"  not  return  void,"  present  a  warraot  and  encouragement  to  vigor- 
ous exertions  for  converting  the  heathen.  Christians  have  always 
recognized  the  obligation,  and  professed  a  submission  to  this  duty  ; 
yet  they  have  criminally  neglected  the  means,  or  ignobly  slumbered 
in  the  work. 

In  the  dark  period  of  ignorance  and  oppression,  when  the  Church 
fled  before  an  implacable  enemy,  it  was  impossible  to  devise  liberal 
plans,  or  prosecute  any  benevolent  design  for  the  enlargement  of  the 
Redeemer's  kingdom.  Her  situation  precluded  every  generous  ef- 
fort. But  why,  in  more  prosperous  times,  did  believers  abate  in 
their  zeal  ?  Why  for  the  space  of  three  centuries,  when  placed  be- 
yond the  reach  of  persecution,  have  no  strenuous  measures  been 
adopted  for  extending  the  knowledge  of  the  Saviour?  Men,  emi- 
nent for  their  piety  and  talents,  have,  in  succession,  been  raised  up 
in  the  Church.  Many,  during  this  long  interval,  have  defended  the 
truth,  and,  by  their  invaluable  writings,  recommended  the  excellence 
and  power  of  godliness.  Faithful  and  learned  ministers  have  inde- 
fatigably  labored;  and  the  Lord  hath  often  "sent  a  plentiful  rain," 
and  confirmed  "  His  inheritance  when  it  was  weary ;"  but  still  an 
extensive  promulgation  of  the  Gospel  has  not  been  seriously  at- 
tempted. Nothing  since  the  primitive  ages  of  Christianity,  deserv- 
ing the  name,  has  appeared,  until  the  present  period.  Now,  at  a 
season  the  most  unpromising,  when  wars,  revolutions,  and  confusion 
prevail ;  now,  when  infidelity  assumes  a  formidable  aspect,  increases 
its  votaries,  and  arrogantly  threatens  to  crush  revealed  religion ;  at 
this  very  time,  under  all  these  inauspicious  circumstances,  see  the 
Church  "  enlarging  the  place  of  her  tent,  and  stretching  forth  the 
curtains  of  her  habitation  1  She  breaks  forth  on  the  right  hand  and 
on  the  left,  to  inherit  the  Gentiles,  and  make  the  desolate  cities  to  be 
inhabited."  All  who  embrace  the  doctrines  of  grace,  in  every  nation, 
seem  inspired  with  the  same  spirit.    Vast  plans  are  formed,  immense 


426  JOHN    H.    LIVINGSTON. 

expenses  incurred,  and  the  most  distant  continents  and  islands  be- 
come tlie  objects  of  attention.  Now  the  deplorable  state  of  tliose 
who  "dwell  in  the  land  of  the  shadow  of  death,"  and  perish  for  lack 
of  knowledge,  excites  compassion.  Societies  are  instituted  to  facili- 
tate the  work  ;  and  men,  zealous  and  intrepid  in  the  service  of  their 
Lord,  readily  offer  to  visit  the  utmost  ends  of  the  earth,  and  cheer- 
fully submit  to  the  toils  and  dangers  inseparable  from  missionary 
labors. 

Such  views  and  efforts  constitute  a  distinguished  epoch  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Church.  Events  so  singular,  and  in  their  consequences 
so  interesting,  create  serious  inquiries.  The  assiduous  observer  of 
Divine  Providence,  losing  sight  of  subordinate  agents,  looks  up, 
and  asks,  What  is  God  doing  ?  Why  are  the  intricate  wheels  which, 
with  respect  to  this  important  object,  have  so  long  seemed  station- 
ary, now  put  in  motion  ?  Is  there  nothing  in  the  word  of  God,  is 
there  no  promise,  no  prediction,  which  will  illustrate  the  procedure 
of  Providence,  and  inform  His  people  of  the  rise  and  progress,  the 
source  and  tendency  of  this  astonishing  movement  ?  From  the 
prophecies  of  the  Old  Testament  respecting  the  kingdom  of  Christ, 
a  satisfactory  reply  can  not  be  obtained.  Those  prophecies  refer 
chiefly  to  the  beginning  or  to  the  conclusion  of  the  Gospel  dispen- 
sation. Some  were  accomplished  in  the  days  of  the  apostles  and 
their  immediate  successors.  The  most  of  them  look  forward  to  a 
distant  period.  Very  little  concerning  the  intermediate  space,  or  the 
train  of  events  which  mark  the  approach,  and  are  to  usher  in  the 
glory  of  the  latter  days,  can  be  from  them  especially  collected.  Our 
blessed  Lord,  in  many  of  His  parables,  delineates  the  gradual  and 
extensive  progress  of  His  kingdom.  In  the  Epistles  a  formidable 
adversary  is  mentioned,  "Whom  the  Lord  shall  consume  with  the 
breath  of  His  mouth,  and  shall  destroy  with  the  brightness  of  His 
coming."  But  our  most  decisive  information  is  to  be  derived  from 
the  Apocalypse.  The  various  vicissitudes  which,  in  succession, 
designate  the  present  dispensation  of  the  Church,  and  the  time  when 
the  promises  will  be  fulfilled,  are  there  more  j)ointedly  described 
than  in  any  other  portion  of  the  sacred  Scriptures.  To  a  prophecy 
in  this  book  I  have  presumed,  my  brethren,  upon  this  occasion,  to 
request  your  attention  ;  a  prophecy  in  which  you  will  find  an  answer 
to  your  inquiries,  and  from  which  it  is  my  design  to  deduce  a  new 
motive  for  strenuous  and  persevering  exertions  in  your  missionary 
engagements. 

Convinced  of  the  difficulties  which  unavoidably  attend  the  ex- 
planation of  prophecies  not  yet  accomplished,  and  persuaded  of  a 


THE    ANGEL    WITH    THE    EVERLASTING    GOSPEL.     427 

prevailing  disposition  to  magnify  presenting  events ;  aware  of  tlie 
propensity  whicli  urges  to  anticipate  what  is  future  and  sensible  of 
tlie  peculiar  circumspection  with  which  we  ought  to  comment  upon 
the  book  of  Revelation,  I  approach  my  subject  with  humility  and 
diffidence ;  yet  not  without  hope  that  the  meaning  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  in  the  passage  selected  for  our  meditation,  is  rightly  appre- 
hended, and  that  something  may  be  adduced  for  instruction  and 
edification.     Let  us  endeavor, 

I.  To  ascertain  the  object  of  this  prophecy ;  and  then, 

II.  Investigate  the  period  of  its  accomplishment. 

First.  To  ascertain  the  object  of  this  prophecy,  and  determine 
what  event  is  here  predicted,  let  it  be  observed,  that  in  this  chapter 
several  distinct  visions  are  recorded,  which  follow  each  other  in  un- 
interrupted succession,  referring  to  events,  which,  in  that  very  order, 
will  be  accomplished  ;  that  the  vision  now  under  consideration  is  the 
second,  and,  in  regard  to  its  meaning  and  precise  object,  is  unin- 
fluenced by  what  precedes  or  follows. 

John  once  "  beheld  and  heard  an  angel  flying  through  the  midst 
of  heaven,  saying,  with  a  loud  voice.  Woe,  woe,  woe,  to  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  earth !"  The  characters  and  scene  now  before  us  are 
of  a  different  nature ;  instead  of  woe  and  alarm,  they  are  replete 
with  glad  tidings  and  consolation.  "  I  saw  another  angel  fly  in  the 
midst  of  heaven,  having  the  everlasting  Grospel  to  i3reach  unto  them 
that  dwell  on  the  earth."  In  this  text  the  hieroglyphical  and  alpha- 
betical language  both  occur.  A  few  symbols  are  first  introduced, 
after  which  an  explanation  succeeds  in  the  ordinary  style. 

The  symbols  are,  heaven  and  an  angel,  bearing  a  precious  treas- 
ure, "  flying  in  the  midst  of  heaven,"  and  crying  with  a  "  loud  voice." 
Heaven  is  often,  throughout  the  Scripture,  used  literally  to  indicate 
the  place  of  glory,  the  beatific  vision,  the  mansion  of  the  blessed. 
In  the  passage  before  us  it  is  a  symbol,  and  means  the  Church  under 
the  New  Testament  dispensation.  The  "  midst  of  heaven,"  then,  is 
the  midst  of  the  Christian  Churches.  Angel  is  an  official  terra  ;  it 
is  frequently  applied  to  those  spiritual  and  celestial  beings  who  are 
sent  forth  to  minister  to  the  heirs  of  salvation  ;  but  the  word  ex- 
presses not  so  much  the  nature  as  the  character  and  duty  of  those 
who  are  employed  as  messengers.  It  is  here  a  sj^mbol,  and  repre- 
sents the  ministers  of  the  Gospel,  the  messengers  of  the  Lord  to 
His  people ;  and  means  not  one  particular  minister,  but  a  Gospel 
ministry  in  the  aggregate.  Of  this  a  satisfactory  explanation  occurs 
in  the  second  and  third  chapters  of  this  book,  where  the  symbol  al- 
ways refers  to  the  ministry  of  the  Churches.    Flying  is  the  figure  of 


428  JOHN    H.    LIVINGSTON. 

speed.  A  continued  flying  indicates  an  uninterrupted  and  unceas- 
ing progress.  The  loud  voice  expresses  earnestness,  zeal  and  au- 
thority. 

From  the  symbolical  terms,  we  then  collect,  that  John  foresaw  a 
period  when  a  zealous  ministry  would  arise  in  the  midst  of  the 
churches,  with  a  new  and  extraordinary  spirit ;  a  ministry  singular 
in  its  views  and  exertions,  and  remarkable  for  its  plans  and  success ; 
a  ministry  which  would  arrest  the  public  attention,  and  be  a  pre- 
lude to  momentous  changes  in  the  Church  and  in  the  world. 

The  literal  explanation  removes  every  doubt  respecting  the 
meaning  of  these  symbols.  What  is  the  treasure  the  angel  bears  ? 
What  does  he  proclaim  with  so  loud  a  voice?  To  whom  is  his  mes- 
sage directed?  Each  of  these  is  here  determined.  The  angel  has 
the  everlasting  Gospel  to  preach :  this  is  his  treasure.  He  calls  to 
the  practice  of  the  essential  duties  of  true  religion,  and  announces 
the  hour  of  God's  judgment:  this  is  the  import  of  his  proclamation. 
He  is  commissioned  to  visit  every  nation  and  people  on  the  earth : 
to  them  his  message  is  directed.  Some  of  these  articles  deserve  a 
minute  discussion  ;  but  we  must  be  contented  with  a  few  brief  ob- 
servations upon  each. 

1.  The  Gospel  signifies  good  tidings,  tidings  of  great  jo}^,  of  sal- 
vation for  lost  sinners,  salvation  from  great  misery,  procured  by  a 
great  price,  a  great  salvation.  To  preach  this  Gospel  is  officially  to 
declare  the  fact,  and  authoritatively  to  command  and  persuade  sin- 
ners to  be  reconciled  to  God.  So  the  celestial  angel  preached  the 
Gospel  to  the  Shepherds  in  the  field  of  Bethlehem,  when  he  pub- 
lished the  birth  of  the  Saviour.  So  the  apostolic  angels  preached 
the  Gospel  when  they  went  forth  "  as  embassadors  for  Christ,  and 
inculcated  repentance  and  faith.  So  the  ordinary  angels  of  the 
churches  have  continued  in  every  age  to  preach  the  Gospel,  as  far  as 
they  have  faithfully  professed  and  taught  the  doctrines  of  Jesus  and 
His  apostles. 

This  Gospel  is  here  called  everlasting,  not  merely  because  it 
was  devised  in  the  eternal  counsel  of  peace  between  the  Father  and 
the  Son,  and  because  it  is  established  by  an  everlasting  Covenant, 
which  renders  all  the  benefits  well  ordered,  sure,  and  perpetual ;  but 
it  is  thus  denominated  with  particular  emphasis  in  this  prophecy,  to 
indicate  that  the  Gospel,  which  should  go  forth  from  the  midst  of 
the  churches,  and  be  sent  to  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  would  be 
the  same  Gospel  which  had  always  been  maintained  by  the  faithful 
followers  of  the  Eedeemer  ;  the  same  Gospel  which  was  "■  preached 
before  unto  Abraham ;"  the  same  which  all  believers  embraced  un- 


THE    ANGEL    WITH    THE    EVERLASTING    GOSPEL.     429 

der  the  Old  Testament ;  the  same  which  the  apostles  preached  and 
the  primitive  Christians  professed ;  the  same  to  which  the  sealed  of 
the  Lord  bore  witness  during  the  persecution  of  antichrist;  the 
same  for  which  the  churches  at  the  Keformation  protested,  and 
which  has  since,  by  many  of  those  churches,  been  preserved  in  its 
purity.  The  very  same  weapons,  and  no  other,  which  had  been 
"  mighty  through  God  to  the  pulling  down  of  strongholds"  hereto- 
fore, should  now  be  effectually  employed.  This  ascertains  that,  at 
the  period  intended  in  the  vision,  the  doctrines  of  grace  would  be 
faithfully  preached ;  that  the  missionaries  sent  out  from  the  midst 
of  the  churches  would  be,  like  Barnabas,  "  good  men,  full  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  of  faith ;"  that  they  would  not  accommodate  their 
message  to  the  pride  of  philosophers,  to  the  prejudice  of  infidels,  or 
the  bigotry  of  idolaters  ?  but  honestly,  plainly,  and  boldly  preach 
"Christ  and  Him  crucified;"  Christ,  "  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the 
life,"  by  whom  alone  sinners  can  come  to  the  Father;  that  without 
flattery  or  disguise,  they  would  call  transgressors  to  repentance,  and 
offer  a  Saviour  to  the  chief  of  sinners. 

2.  To  what  doth  the  angel  call  ?  "What  is  the  import  of  his 
proclamation?  In  three  comprehensive  sentences  a  summary  of 
the  whole  is  exhibited — "  Fear  God ;  give  glory  to  Him ;"  and  "  wor- 
ship Him."  By  the  fear  of  God,  the  whole  of  true  religion,  as  it 
respects  principles  and  practice,  is  often  expressed ;  particularly  a 
veneration  for  the  infinite  majesty  of  Jehovah,  and  a  holy  dread  of 
His  judgments.  "  The  Lord  is  the  true  God,  He  is  the  living  God, 
and  everlasting  King ;  at  His  wrath  the  earth  shall  tremble.  Who 
would  not  fear  Thee,  0  King  of  nations  ?  For  to  Thee  doth  it  ap- 
pertain." But  the  fear  particularly  inculcated  by  the  Gospel  is  here 
especially  intended ;  not  a  servile  dread,  which  urges  awakened  sin- 
ners to  despair,  and  extinguishes  devotion ;  but  a  holy  reverence, 
blended  with  such  perfect  love  as  casteth  out  slavish  fear.  The 
spirit  of  adoption  seals  the  forgiveness  of  sins — is  an  earnest  of  ac- 
ceptance "in  the  beloved" — and  excites  in  His  people  a  filial  fear. 
"  There  is  forgiveness  with  Thee,  that  Thou  mayest  be  feared." 

"  Give  glory  to  Him,"  is  added  by  the  angel,  as  another  compre- 
hensive summary  of  the  Gospel  call.  In  all  His  Divine  attributes 
God  is  infinitely  glorious.  The  heavens  declare  His  glory.  The 
whole  earth  is  full  of  His  glory.  All  His  works  praise  Him.  He 
is  glorious  in  His  holiness  and  fearful  in  His  praises.  But  in  the 
face  of  Jesus  Christ  the  glory  of  God  shines  most  conspicuously. 
In  the  salvation  of  guilty,  depraved,  and  helpless  transgressors, 
through  the  imputed  righteousness  of  the  blessed  Immanuel,  glory 


430  JOHN    H.    LIVINGSTON. 

redounds  to  God  in  the  highest.  The  Gospel  displays  "  the  glory  of 
His  majesty ;"  and  wherever  it  is  rendered  the  wisdom  and  power 
of  God  unto  salvation,  it  instructs  the  redeemed  to  "give  gloiy  unto 
the  Lord." 

The  angel  concludes  with  the  authoritative  command,  "  Worship 
Him."  Eevealed  religion  restores  true  worship  to  the  world,  directs 
to  the  right  object,  and  opens  the  only  way  for  sinners  to  the  mercy- 
seat.  It  is  with  peculiar  propriety  the  prophesy  mentions,  that  the 
worship  taught  by  the  Gospel  is  the  worship  of  the  Creator,  who 
"  made  heaven  and  earth,  and  the  sea  and  the  fountains  of  waters." 
It  inculcates  this  great  truth,  that  revealed  religion  adopts,  confirms, 
and  enjoins  the  religion  of  nature;  that  God,  who  is  related  to  us  as 
Creator,  has  revealed  Himself  also  in  the  new  and  adorable  relation 
of  Eedeemer;  that  sinners,  therefore,  who  come  to  the  Saviour, 
come  to  Him  who  made  them  ;  in  worshiping  their  Eedeemer  they 
worship  their  Creator.     "  Thy  Maker  is  Thy  husband." 

This  meets  the  objections  of  infidelity,  and  seems  to  point  to 
prevailing  principles  at  the  time  when  the  event  foretold  will  be  ac- 
complished. The  everlasting  Gospel  which  the  angel  proclaims 
demonstrates  the  religion  of  nature,  however  perfect  in  itself,  to  be 
inadequate  for  the  salvation  of  those  who  have  sinned.  It  declares 
the  Creator  to  be  a  Eedeemer,  and  in  this  relation  invites  sinners  to 
fear  God,  to  give  Him  glory,  and  worship  Him. 

As  a  motive  for  preaching  the  Gospel,  and  an  argument  for  its 
reception,  the  angel  announces  that  "the  hour  of  God's  Judgment 
is  come."  The  term  judgment,  in  the  Apocalypse,  usually  respects 
the  decision  of  the  controversy  which  has  long  subsisted  between 
the  world  and  Jesus  Christ ;  but  it  is  evident  a  particular  reference 
is  here  made  to  the  judgment  to  be  inflicted  upon  the  nations  charge- 
able with  slaying  the  witnesses.  "  The  nations  were  angry,  and  thy 
wrath  is  come,  and  the  time  of  the  dead  that  they  should  be  judged ;" 
the  time  when  the  dead  saints  shall  be  remembered,  and  the  blood 
of  the  martyrs,  by  terrible  judgments,  be  avenged.  This  is  consid- 
ered as  the  commencement  of  that  awful  decision,  the  beginning  of 
that  series  of  judgment,  which  will  terminate  the  controversy  between 
the  Eedeemer  and  His  adversaries.  To  this,  in  the  first  instance ; 
the  angel  has  respect.  He  calls  with  "  a  loud  voice — The  hour  of 
His  judgment  is  come."  Let  the  nations  tremble ;  let  the  world 
adore;  especially  let  the  Churches  hear!  The  beginning  of  this 
judgment,  the  very  hour  of  its  commencement,  is  the  signal  for  the 
angel's  flight,  and  for  extending  the  Eedeemer's  kingdom. 

3.  To  whom  is  the  Gospel  to  be  sent  ?     To  whom  is  the  angel 


THE    ANGEL    WITH    THE    EVERLASTING    GOSPEL.     43I 

commissioned  to  carry  his  treasure  ?  "  Unto  them  that  dwell  on  the 
earth,  and  to  every  nation,  and  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people." 
The  term  earth,  when  uttered  figuratively  in  this  book,  is  a  symbol 
for  the  Eoman  Empire,  including  the  whole  extent  of  the  papal 
hierarchy.  Commentators,  who  view  it  here  as  a  symbol,  understand 
the  prophecy  as  only  foretelling  the  promulgation  of  the  Gospel  in 
its  purity,  throughout  the  bounds  of  that  empire,  as  it  is  now  divided 
into  different  nations,  tongues  and  people.  But  the  term  has  a 
literal  meaning,  and  it  occurs  here  in  connection  with  the  alphabet- 
ical language ;  it  must,  therefore,  be  understood  in  its  literal  sense, 
indicating  the  whole  globe  which  we  inhabit,  with  all  the  nations 
and  people  of  the  world.  To  these,  however,  distant  and  dispersed, 
diversified  in  their  situation,  and  differing  in  their  manners  and  lan- 
guages ;  to  all  these  the  angel  bends  his  course ;  to  all  these  he  is 
commissioned  to  preach  the  everlasting  Gospel. 

You  have  the  meaning  of  the  prophecy.  What  was  suggested 
by  the  hieroglyphic,  is  illustrated  and  confirmed  by  the  alphabetical 
language. 

John  saw  in  vision,  that  after  a  lapse  of  time,  a  singular  move- 
ment would  commence,  not  in  a  solitary  corner,  but  in  the  very 
midst  of  the  Churches.  That  the  Gospel,  in  its  purity,  would  be 
sent  to  the  most  distant  lands,  and  success  crown  the  benevolent 
work.  The  ordinary  exercise  of  the  ministry,  or  the  feeble  attempts 
which,  at  different  times,  might  be  made  to  propagate  the  Gospel, 
were  not  the  object  of  this  vision.  It  was  something  beyond  the 
common  standard,  which  the  apostle  beheld  with  admiration  and 
rapture.  It  was  such  preaching  and  such  propagation  of  the  Gospel 
as  John  never  before  contemplated.  There  was  a  magnitude  in  the 
plan,  a  concurrence  of  sentiment,  a  speed  in  the  execution,  a  zeal  in 
the  efforts,  and  a  prosperity  in  the  enterprise,  which  distinguished 
this  from  all  former  periods. 

The  event  here  described  comprehends  a  series  of  causes  and  ef- 
fects, a  succession  of  means  and  ends,  not  to  be  completed  in  a  day, 
or  finished  by  a  single  exertion.  It  is  represented  as  a  growing  and 
permanent  work.  It  commences  from  small  beginnings  in  the  midst 
of  the  Churches,  but  it  proceeds,  and  will  increase  in  going. 
There  are  no  limits  to  the  progress  of  the  angel.  From  the  time  he 
begins  to  fly  and  preach,  he  will  continue  to  fly  and  preach  until  he 
has  brought  the  everlasting  Gospel  to  all  nations,  and  tongues,  and 
kindred  and  people  in  the  earth.  Hail,  happy  period !  Hail,  cheer- 
ing prospect !  When  will  that  blessed  hour  arrive  ?  When  will 
the  angel  commence  his  flight  ?     This  leads  us, 


432  JOHN    H.    LIVINGSTON. 

Secondly.  To  investigate  the  time  when  this  prophecy  will  begin 
to  be  accomplislied. 

The  whole  structure  of  the  vision,  the  grandeur  of  the  scene,  and 
the  solemn  exposition  of  the  symbols,  recommended  this  illustrious 
prophecy  to  the  peculiar  notice  of  the  Churches,  and  yet  it  seems  to 
have  been  generally  neglected  or  misrepresented  by  commentators. 
It  has  either  been  restricted  to  what  happened  at  the  Reformation, 
or  thrown  into  the  great  mass  of  events  which  are  to  take  place  after 
the  Millennium  has  fully  commenced.  Whereas,  upon  examination, 
it  will  be  found,  both  from  the  order  of  the  vision  and  its  express 
object  that  it  comprehends  something  vastly  beyond  what  was 
realized  at  the  Reformation.  And,  so  far  from  actually  belonging 
to  the  millennial  period,  it  is  only  the  appointed  means  for  introducing 
that  state  ;  whatever  may  be  its  progress  or  consummation,  it  must, 
in  the  nature  of  things,  begin  its  operation  some  considerable  time 
before  the  Millennium  can  commence.  [An  argument  is  here  intro- 
duced to  sustain  this  opinion ;  and  it  is  further  confirmed  by  notes  in 
an  Appendix  to  the  printed  discourse.] 

With  this  conclusion,  if,  now,  we  compare  existing  facts ;  if  we 
view  the  missionary  s^^irit  which  has  suddenly  pervaded  the 
Churches,  and  estimate  the  efforts  lately  made,  and  still  making,  for 
the  sending  the  Gospel  to  those  who  know  not  the  precious  name  of 
Jesus,  and  are  perishing  in  their  sins ;  do  we  not  discover  a  striking 
resemblance  of  what  the  vision  describes  ?  May  we  not  exclaim, 
Behold  the  angel !     His  flight  is  begun  ! 

"  The  hour  of  God's  judgment,"  we  have  already  seen,  is  men- 
tioned as  the  very  hour  when  the  angel  begins  to  fly.  This  is  a 
part  of  his  proclamation.  Upon  this  his  commission  to  go  forth  is 
expressly  sanctioned.  To  the  three  other  great  events  which  are  to 
happen,  the  extensive  preaching  of  the  Gospel  must,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  be  antecedent,  as  means  to  effect  those  ends  ;  but  with  the 
first  mentioned  it  is  to  be  coetaneous.  When  that  begins,  this  will 
also  commence.  What  we  are  to  understand  by  this  judgment  of 
God  has  been  explained,  and  we  are  assured  that,  sooner  or  later — 
but  we  recoil  at  the  exposition,  and  ^^roceed  with  reluctance  upon  a 
subject  which  excites  such  sympath}-,  such  sensibility,  so  much  pain. 
Yet  faithfulness  renders  it  incumbent  to  say — we  are  assured  that, 
sooner  or  later,  it  will  certainly  be  inflicted  upon  the  nations,  in 
their  national  capacity,  who  are  chargeable  with  the  murder  of  the 
saints.  The  justice  and  dignity  of  the  moral  government ;  the 
veracity  of  God  in  fulfilling  what  He  has  so  repeatedly  declared  in 
His  word ;  a  vindication  of  the  insulted  honor  of  the  Saviour  and 


THE    ANGEL    WITH    THE    EVERLASTING    GOSPEL.     433 

His  love  to  His  people  and  cause,  all  conspire  to  render  His  dis- 
pensation inevitable.  The  debt  must  be  paid.  The  voice  of  blood 
will  be  heard.  Believers  who  reside  in  those  nations,  and  dread  the 
scene,  might  as  well  pray  that  the  Lord  would  not  be  "  revealed  in 
flaming  fire  to  take  vengeance  upon  them  that  know  not  God,  and 
obey  not  the  Gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;"  or,  that  the  elements 
might  be  preserved  from  melting  with  fervent  heat,  and  the  world 
exempted  from  final  conflagration,  as  to  pray  that  the  precious  blood 
of  the  saints  should  not  be  avenged. 

The  righteous  may  protect  the  wicked,  and  in  the  ordinary  pro- 
cedure of  Providence,  avert  impending  destruction  for  a  time  ;  but 
although  Noah,  Daniel,  and  Job  were  there,  when  this  hour  of  retri- 
bution arrives,  they  could  procure  no  longer  forbearance.  Conform- 
ably to  this.  His  people  are  not  exhorted  to  pray  against  the  ap- 
proaching calamity,  but  to  submit  in  faith  and  hope  ;  and  when  the 
awful  season  shall  arrive,  to  fly  to  their  chambers  and  hide  them- 
selves. They  shall  be  safely  protected.  The  Lord  knoweth  how  to 
deliver  His  children ;  and  will,  as  when  Jerusalem  was  destroyed, 
provide  some  Pella  for  them.  "  AVhen  He  maketh  inquisition  for 
blood.  He  remembereth  them;  He  forgetteth  not  the  cry  of  the 
humble." 

But  when  will  God  perform  this  strange  work  ?  Ah,  perhaps  it 
is  already  begun !  "What  are  the  singular,  what  the  desolating  scenes 
which  have  opened,  and  are  still  enlarging  in  prospect?  Why  are 
convulsed  nations  rising  in  a  new  and  terrific  form  to  exterminate 
each  other?  Are  these  the  beginnings  of  sorrows?  Are  these  the 
first  movements  for  avenging  the  Saviour's  cause  ?  Is  God  now 
coming  out  of  His  place  to  judge  the  earth,  to  judge  that  portion 
of  the  world  -which  assisted  the  beast  in  slaying  the  witnesses? 
Must  the  blood,  so  long  covered  and  forgotten  by  men,  now  come  in 
remembrance  and  be  disclosed  ?  Must  this  generation — we  forbear. 
Judge  ye.  But  be  assured,  that  if  this  work  be  begun,  or  whenever 
it  doth  begin,  at  that  very  hour  the  angel  will  begin  to  fly.  When 
Zion  sings  of  judgment,  she  always  sings  of  mercy. 

Let  this  sufiice.  You  have  attended  to  the  prophecy,  and  esti- 
mated the  period  of  its  accomplishment.  You  have  compared  ex- 
isting facts  with  the  prediction,  and  drawn  a  conclusion.  Do  you 
now  call,  "Watchman,  what  of  the  night?  Watchman,  what  of  the 
night  ?"  The  watchman  saith,  "  The  morning  cometh,  and  also  the 
night."  Clouds  and  darkness  still  remain,  and  the  gloom  may  even 
thicken  at  its  close ;  but  the  rising  dawn  will  soon  dispel  the  shades, 

28 


434  .JOHN    H.    LIVINGSTON. 

and  sHne  "  more  and  more  unto  tlie  perfect  day."     '^  The  morning 
cometli !" 

From  the  numerous  reflections  suggested  by  this  subject,  the 
limits  of  our  discourse  permit  us  to  select  only  a  few. 

1.  How  mysterious  are  the  ways  of  God  !  "  His  way  is  in  the 
sea,  His  path  in  the  great  waters,  and  His  footsteps  are  not  known." 
The  time  which  elapsed  before  the  birth  of  the  Messiah ;  the  narrow 
boundaries  within  which  the  Church  was  circumscribed  during  the 
dispensation  of  the  Old  Testament ;  the  sufferings  which  overwhelmed 
her  immediately  after  the  primitive  ages  of  Christianity  ;  and  the 
small  progress  of  truth  afid  righteousness  for  so  many  centuries  to 
the  present  day,  are  all,  to  us,  mysterious  and  inexplicable.  What 
diffiiculties  hold  us  in  suspense  !  How  many  inquiries  arise  !  If  the 
everlasting  Gospel  is  to  be  preached  to  the  whole  world,  wh}^  are  the 
nations  permitted  to  remain  so  long  in  ignorance  and  wickedness  ?  If 
the  heathen  be  given  to  the  Lord  Jesus,  why  doth  He  delay  to  take 
possession  of  them  ?  Why  a  discrimination  ?  Why — "  But  0  man, 
who  art  thou  that  repliest  against  God  ?  Shall  the  thing  formed  say 
to  Him  that  formed  it.  Why  hast  Thou  made  me  thus?"  Can  any 
"say  unto  Him,  What  dost  Thou?"  Say  rather,  "  0  the  depth  of 
the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God ;  how  un- 
searchable are  His  judgments,  and  His  ways  past  finding  out !  Even 
so,  Father,  for  so  it  seemed  good  in  Thy  sight !" 

Delays  have  tried  the  faith  and  patience  of  the  saints ;  and  scoffers, 
seizing  the  occasion,  have  dared  to  demand,  "Where  is  the  promise 
of  His  coming?"  But  darkness  will  be  succeeded  by  light,  perplex- 
ing difficulties  all  be  solved,  and  apparent  confusion  terminate  in 
perfect  order.  Zion  shall  before  long  cease  to  complain  that  "  her 
Lord  hath  forgotten  her ;"  and  as  for  the  wicked,  they  may  suppress 
their  blasphemies.  "  The  Lord  is  not  slack  concerning  His  promise. 
Behold,  the  day  cometh,"  too  soon  for  them,  "  the  day  cometh  that 
shall  burn  as  an  oven ;  and  all  the  proud,  yea,  and  all  that  ^o  wick- 
edly, shall  be  stubble."  God  will  vindicate  His  ways,  and  display 
the  harmony  which  has  forever  subsisted  between  His  providence 
and  promises.  The  period  is  approaching  that  will  abundantly  com- 
pensate for  the  severest  trials  and  the  longest  delays ;  a  period  when 
the  Redeemer's  kingdom  on  earth  will  perfectly  correspond  to  the 
sublitnest  descriptions  of  its  extent  and  glory.  "  The  Lord  reigneth, 
let  the  earth  rejoice.  He  will  make  crooked  things  straight,  and 
darkness  light.     As  for  God,  His  way  is  perfect." 

2.  The  magnitude  of  this  event  next  arrests  our  attention.  Vast 
in  its  nature  and  consequences,  it  involves  renovations  in  the  moral 


THE    ANGEL    "WITH    THE    EVERLASTING    GOSPEL.     435 

•world  more  extensive  and  stupendous  than  any  hitherto  experi- 
enced ;  it  implicates  radical  changes  in  the  manners  and  customs  of 
mankind  ;  and  even  comprehends  revolutions  in  the  principles  and 
administration  of  civil  government,  which  surpass  the  power  of  an- 
ticipation. But  vast  and  difficult  as  these  may  appear,  there  is  noth- 
ing in  their  rise,  their  progress,  or  their  consummation  that  implies 
a  contradiction.  In  the  physical  order  of  things  the  event  is  possi- 
ble ;  agreeable  to  the  moral  system  it  can  be  effected ;  and  it  cer- 
tainly is  most  desirable  and  devoutly  to  be  wished.  "When  all  na- 
tions receive  the  Gospel,  and  become  real  Christians ;  when  men  of 
every  rank,  "  from  the  least  to  the  greatest,  shall  know  the  Lord," 
and  devote  themselves  to  the  service  of  their  Redeemer,  then  all 
will  be  happy.  Individuals  will  be  happy,  society  will  be  happy, 
and  peace,  joy,  and  holiness  prevail  throughout  the  whole  earth. 
This  is  the  manifestation  for  which  the  world  is  waiting.  The  crea- 
tion, groaning  under  the-  complicated  miseries  introduced  by  sin, 
will  then  obtain  the  deliverance  for  which  it  has  been  so  long  in 
travail. 

Alarmed  at  the  prospect,  infidels  raise  formidable  objections, 
and,  with  infernal  malignity,  ridicule  the  hope  of  believers.  "  All 
things,"  say  they,  "  all  things  continue  as  they  were  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  creation ;  and  all  things  will  forever  so  remain.  Noth- 
ing can  produce  the  mighty  change  you  Christians  contemplate. 
You  cherish  fictions,  chimeras,  and  dreams.  You  draw  Elysian 
scenes  which  will  never  be  realized.  What !  convince  the  ferocious 
followers  of  Mohammed  that  their  prophet  was  an  impostor,  their  Al- 
coran a  rhapsody  !  Persuade  the  Chinese  to  abandon  their  ancient 
habits !  Induce  the  myriads  in  India  to  demolish  their  pagodas,  and 
erect  temples  to  Jesus  Christ !  Curb  the  roving  Tartars  !  Elevate 
the  groveling  Africans !  Or  tame  the  savages  of  America  !  How 
can  these  things  be?"  Not  by  human  might  or  -power,  we  reply.  We 
know  more  than  infidels  can  inform  us  of  the  stupendous  heights 
and  horrid  abysses  over  which  the  promise  has  to  pass ;  but  none  of 
these  things  move  us.  Were  it  to  be  accomplished  by  man  ;  were 
the  subtle  counsels  of  the  wise  or  the  nerved  arm  of  the  hero  re- 
quired, the  afiQicting  consequences,  in  their  fullest  latitude,  would 
readily  be  admitted.  But  it  is  the  work  of  God.  This  answers  all 
questions — this  silences  every  cavil.  Is  any  thing  too  hard  for  Him 
"  that  sitteth  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth,  and  the  inhabitants  thereof 
are  as  grassho2:)pers  ?"  Are  not  all  things  possible  with  Him  who 
"  doth  according  to  His  will  in  the  army  of  heaven  and  among  the 
inhabitants  of  the  earth,  and  none  can  stay  His  hand  ?"     Has  the 


436  JOHN    H.    LIVINGSTON. 

glorified  Mediator  all  power  given  to  Him  in  heaven  and  in  eartli  to 
accomplisli  this  very  event,  and  can  the  faith  of  His  people  be  chi- 
merical ?  Are  their  hopes  to  be  ridiculed  ?  Great  as  it  may  be,  it  is 
not  too  great  for  Him  to  perform.  "  Every  valley  shall  be  exalted, 
and  every  mountain  and  hill  shall  be  made  low  ;  and  the  crooked 
shall  be  made  strait';  and  the  rough  places  plain  ;  and  the  glory  of 
the  Lord  shall  be  revealed,  and  all  flesh  shall  see  it  together ;  for  the 
mouth  of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it." 

8.  The  certainty  of  the  accomplishment  affords  a  consoling  re- 
flection. This  is  implied  in  what  has  already  been  said  ;  but  it  de- 
serves a  more  distinct  consideration.  Christians  are  not  chargeable 
with  enthusiasm  when  they  believe  the  promises  of  God  will  be  ful- 
filled. They  follow  no  cunningly  devised  fable  when  they  "  make 
known  the  power  and  coming  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  They 
"  speak  the  words  of  truth  and  soberness,"  when  they  say,  the  ever- 
lasting Gospel  will  be  successfully  preached  "  to  all  them  that  dwell 
on  the  earth,  and  to  every  nation,  and  kindred,  and  tongue,  and 
people."  Always  ready  to  "  give  a  reason  of  the  hope  that  is  in 
them,"  in  regard  to  their  own  salvation,  they  are  equally  prepared 
to  vindicate  their  expectation  respecting  the  enlargement  of  their 
Eedeemer's  kingdom  in  the  world. 

The  truth  of  God  is  pledged  to  accomplish  His  word.  Nothing 
can  possibly  intervene  to  change  His  plan.  Nothing  can  arise  to 
frustrate  His  purpose.  The  Lord  has  faithfully  executed  all  He 
promised,,  in  the  proper  season,  from  the  beginning  of  the  world ; 
and  will  He  not  perfect  what  yet  remaineth?  After  preserving  His 
Church  under  the  wasting  persecutions  of  imperial  Eome,  and  the 
execrable  fury  of  Eome  papal ;  after  hiding  her  in  the  wilderness, 
and  nourishing  her  so  long  in  her  adversity  ;  will  He  not  bring  her 
forth  to  public  view  in  the  beauties  of  holiness,  "  fair  as  the  moon, 
clear  as  the  sun,  and  terrible  as  an  army  with  banners  ?  As  I  live, 
saith  the  Lord,  thou  shalt  surely  clothe  thee  with  them  all  as  with 
an  ornament,  and  bind  them  on  thee  as  a  bride  doth  :  I  will  contend 
with  them  that  contendeth  with  thee,  and  I  will  save  thy  children  : 
all  flesh  shall  know  that  I  the  Lord  am  thy  Saviour  and  thy  Ee- 
deemer,  the  mighty  one  of  Jacob." 

It  is  right  and  proper  that  Jesus  Christ  should  reign  over  the 
whole  world,  and  that  all  nations  should  serve  Him.  Is  He  not 
worthy,  "  the  Scepter  of  whose  kingdom  is  a  Scepter  of  righteous- 
ness, to  be  the  King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords  ?"  Is  He  consti- 
tuted the  heir  of  the  world,  and  shall  He  not  in  due  season  possess 
His  inheritance  ?     Hath   He  shed  His  precious  blood  upon  this 


THE    ANQEL    WITH    THE    EVERLASTINa    GOSPEL.    437 

eartt,  and  is  it  not  reasonable  and  fit  tliat  the  theater  of  His  deep 
humiliation  should  become  also  the  theater  of  His  exalted  authority, 
power  and  grace  ?  Has  the  heel  of  the  Saviour  been  bruised  to  the 
utmost  extent  of  the  sentence,  and  will  not  the  head  of  the  serpent 
be  broken  in  the  fullest  import  of  the  promise  ?  Are  the  children 
of  God  instructed  to  plead  that  His  kingdom  may  come ;  and  will 
not  their  heavenly  Father  answer  the  incessant  prayers,  which  for 
many  ages  have  addressed  His  throne  ?  "  Shall  not  God  avenge 
His  own  elect  which  cry  day  and  night  unto  Him,  though  He  bear 
long  with  them  ?  I  tell  you  that  He  will  avenge  them  speedily." 
The  kingdom  and  dominion,  and  the  greatness  of  the  kingdom  un- 
der the  whole  heaven,  shall  be  given  to  the  people  of  the  saints  of 
the  Most  High,  whose  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and  all 
dominions  shall  serve  and  obey  Him.  The  kingdom  shall  not  be 
left  to  other  people,  but  it  shall  break  in  pieces  and  consume  all  the 
kingdoms,  and  it  shall  stand  forever.  Eemove  the  diadem  and  take 
off  the  crown,  ''  I  will  overturn,  overturn,  overturn  it,  and  it  shall 
be  no  more  until  He  come  whose  right  it  is ;  and  I  will  give  it  to 
Him." 

Before  the  Messiah  came,  His  people  were  wearied  with  waiting. 
Many  conjectures  and  errors  prevailed  among  the  Jews  in  their  cal- 
culations and  expectations.  But  seasons,  and  years,  and  ages  re- 
volved ;  and  changes  and  revolutions  in  the  nations  and  kingdoms 
of  the  earth  succeeded  ;  until  the  fullness  of  time  arrived,  and  then 
the  Saviour  was  born.  So  among  Christains  there  may  be  mis- 
apprehensions concerning  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  blessings 
promised  to  the  Church  ;  erroneous  conclusions  may  be  formed  re- 
specting the  time  when  the  happy  period  we  contemplate  will  com- 
mence ;  but,  "  in  the  end,  the  visions  shall  speak."  Seasons  and 
years,  and  ages  will  revolve ;  and  changes  and  revolutions  in  the 
nations  and  kingdoms  of  the  earth  succeed  until  the  day  "  dawns, 
and  the  day-star  arises,"  and  then  "  the  dominion  and  glory,  and 
kingdom,  shall  be  given  to  Him,  that  all  people,  nations  and  lan- 
guages shall  serve  Him."  Nothing  on  the  part  of  sinners  prevent- 
ed His  coming  in  the  flesh ;  and  all  the  ignorance  of  mankind,  the 
prejudice  of  unbelief,  the  malice  of  infidelity,  and  the  combined 
powers  of  earth  and  hell,  will  not  delay  His  coming,  with  His  Gos- 
pel and  Spirit,  agreeably  to  His  promise.  "  God  is  not  a  man,  that 
He  should  lie,  neither  the  son  of  man,  that  He  should  repent :  Hath 
He  said,  and  shall  He  not  do  it  ?  Or  hath  He  spoken,  and  shall  Ho 
not  make  it  good  ?     I  the  Lord  will  hasten  it  in  His  time." 

Come,  "let  us  walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round  about  her,"  let  us 


438  JOHN    H.    LIVINGSTON. 

"  tell  the  towers  thereof  and  mark  well  her  bulwarks."  The  Church, 
frora  the  beginning,  had  been  greatly  circumscribed,  and  was  still  a 
small  flock  when  our  Lord  was  upon  earth.  It  has  continued 
comparatively  small  for  many  centuries,  and  few  have  even  hitherto 
entered  in  at  the  straight  gate,  contrasted  with  the  multitude  who 
choose  the  broad  way  "  that  leadeth  to  destruction."  But  "  glorious 
things  are  spoken  of  the  city  of  God."  The  interests  of  religion  shall 
not  always  be  thus  depressed.  The  Church  of  Christ  will  emerge  • 
from  obscurity,  and  the  number  of  His  followers  not  be  small. 
Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  God  has  promised  a  great  enlarge- 
ment of  the  kingdom  of  the  Kedeemer  in  this  world,  with  abundant 
communications  of  His  Spirit  and  presence.  In  the  most  unequivo- 
cal language  it  is  foretold,  that  all  people  and  nations  throughout  the 
whole  earth  shall  be  instructed  in  the  true  religion,  and  brought  into 
the  Church  of  God.  "  All  dominions  shall  serve  and  obey  Him.  All 
nations  shall  serve  Him.  All  nations  shall  call  Him  blessed.  In 
Him  shall  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  be  blessed.  He  will  destroy 
the  covering  cast  over  all  people,  and  the  vail  that  is  spread  over  all 
nations.  All  flesh  shall  see  the  salvation  of  the  Lord.  Unto  Him 
shall  all  flesh  come.  The  earth  shall  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of 
the  Lord,  as  the  waters  cover  the  seas."  In  this  the  promises  of  the 
Old  as  well  as  of  the  Kew  Testament  completely  harmonize.  They 
all  establish  the  desirable  fact,  that  a  period  will  most  assuredly  ar- 
rive, when  there  shall  not  be  one  nation  in  the  world  which  shall 
not  embrace  the  Christian  religion.  "  The  nation  and  kingdom 
which  shall  not  serve  Thee  shall  perish,  yea,  these  nations  shall  be 
utterly  wasted." 

A  time  will  therefore  come  when  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  shall 
universally  prevail,  and  holiness  shall  characterize  the  world ;  a  time 
when  the  Church  shall  be  known  and  acknowledged  to  be  but  one, 
a  dignified  and  excellent  society,  connected  in  the  most  perfect  or- 
der, and  shining  in  the  light  of  the  Sun  of  Eighteousness ;  a  time 
when  the  world  shall  be  delivered  from  the  evils  and  calamities  un- 
der which  it  has  so  long  groaned,  and  the  blessings  of  God  the  Ee- 
deemer  be  upon  all  the  families  of  the  earth  :  "  Then  the  wilderness 
and  the  solitary  place  shall  be  glad,  and  the  desert  shall  rejoice  and 
blossom  as  the  rOse."  Then  "  let  the  wilderness  and  the  cities  lift  up 
their  voices;  let  the  villages,  the  inhabitants  of  the  rock  sing;  let 
them  shout  from  the  top  of  the  mountains,  let  them  give  glory  unto 
the  Lord,  and  declare  His  praise  in  the  islands." 

These  promises  have  not  yet  been  fulfilled.  There  has  never 
been  any  propagation  of  true  religion  that  corresponds  to  the  uni- 


THE    ANGEL    WITH    THE    EVERLASTING    GOSPEL-    439 

versality  indicated  in  the  promises.  "Where  the  word  and  ordi- 
nances have  been  hitherto  known  and  enjoyed,  their  "blessed  influ- 
ence upon  the  hearts  and  conduct  of  men  has  not  been  thus 
powerfully  experienced.  And  countless  milhons  throughout  the 
earth,  have  never  heard  that  there  is  a  Saviour. 

To  the  fulfillment  of  these  promises,  it  is  necessary  that  the  Gos- 
pel be  sent  to  every  nation  in  the  world.  The  preached  word  is  the 
established  mean  for  converting  sinners,  and  without  the  mean  the 
end  will  not  be  obtained.  "  The  preaching  of  the  cross"  is  unto 
them  which  are  saved  the  power  of  God.  It  hath  pleased  Him,  by 
the  "foolishness  of  preaching,  to  save  them  that  believe."  If,  there- 
fore, the  blessings  promised,  are  to  be  conferred,  there  will  also  come 
a  time  when  God  will  send  His  everlasting  Gospel  to  every  people, 
tongue  and  kindred  in  the  earth.  This  time,  we  believe,  is  ar- 
rived. The  present  exertions  in  the  churches,  we  are  persuaded, 
are  the  first  stirrings,  the  gradual  beginnings  for  accomplishing  that 
great  end. 

Eventful  period  !  A  time  replete  with  occurrences  of  the  high- 
est importance  to  the  world !  Long  lives  for  many  generations  have 
passed  in  uniform  succession,  and  men  have  grown  old  without  wit- 
nessing any  remarkable  deviation  from  the  ordinary  course  of  Prov- 
idence. But  now  a  new  era  is  commencing.  The  close  of  the  last, 
and  the  opening  of  the  present  century,  exhibit  strange  and  aston- 
ishing things.  Principles  and  achievements,  revolutions  and  de- 
signs, events  uncommon  and  portentous,  in  rapid  succession,  arrest 
our  attention.  Each  year,  each  day  is  pregnant  with  something 
great,  and  all  human  calculations  are  set  at  defiance.  The  infidel, 
with  his  impious  philosoph}^,  stands  aghast,  and  destitute  of  re- 
sources, with  trembling  forebodings,  wonders  how  and  where  the 
perplexed  scene  will  end ;  while  the  Christian,  instructed  by  the 
word  and  Spirit  of  his  Saviour,  calmly  views  the  turning  of  the 
dreadful  wheels,  and  knows  which  way  they  proceed.  Strength- 
ened by  Divine  grace  he  stands  undaunted  in  the  mighty  commo- 
tion, and  looks  up  rejoicing  that  his  prayers  are  heard,  and  that  his 
"  redemption  draweth  nigh." 

4.  How  influential  the  motive  suggested  by  this  prediction  to  en- 
gage in  strenuous  exertions  to  propagate  the  Gospel !  How  forcible 
the  argument  to  persevere  in  the  benevolent  work !  When  "  Daniel 
understood  by  books  the  number  of  years,  whereof  the  word  of  the 
Lord  came  to  Jeremiah  the  prophet,"  his  attention  was  fixed ;  his 
affections  were  raised ;  and  it  operated  as  a  motive  to  intercede  for 
the  accomplishment  of  the  prophecy ;  agreeably  to  the  maxim,  that 


440  JOHN    H.    LIVINGSTON. 

will  be  inquired  of  by  the  liouse  of  Israel  to  do  it  for  tliem.  The 
pious  captives  anxiously  waiting  for  their  restoration,  were  no  doubt 
instructed  by  Daniel,  and  joined  with  him  in  supplicating  the  throne 
of  grace.  The  word  passed  rapidly  among  the  scattered  families, 
and  they  gladly  prepared  for  the  impending  change.  It  is  supposed 
that  Daniel,  who,  from  his  former  station  at  the  king's  court,  might 
easily  obtain  access  to  Cyrus,  communicated  to  that  prince,  with 
suitable  and  successful  arguments,  the  part  assigned  in  prophecy  for 
him  to  fulj&ll.  In  this  way  the  prophet  was  instrumental  in  Divine 
Providence  in  bringing  forward  the  completion  of  the  promise.  He 
united  exertions  with  his  prayers.  He  felt  the  influence  of  the  mo- 
tive ;  and  the  grace  which  was  bestowed  upon  him  was  not  in  vain. 

In  like  manner  let  Christians  now  be  wise,  and  receive  instruc- 
tion. "Ye,  brethren,  are  not  in  darkness  that  that  day  should  over- 
take you  as  a  thief.  Ye  are  all  the  children  of  light,  and  the  children 
of  the  day ;  we  are  not  of  the  night  nor  of  darkness,  therefore  let  us 
not  sleep  as  do  others,  but  let  us  watch  and  be  sober."  It  is  time  for 
the  wise  virgins  who  have  slumbered  to  arise  and  trim  their  lamps. 
The  cry  is  made,  "Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh!"  He  cometh 
to  send  His  Gospel  abroad,  and  bless  the  world  with  His  truth  and 
righteousness. 

It  is  an  honor  to  be  employed  in  the  service  of  the  Eedeemer. 
"  I  had  rather  be  a  door-keeper  in  the  house  of  my  God,  than  to 
dwell  in  the  tents  of  wickedness."  It  is  a  privilege  to  be  laborers 
together  with  God.  It  is  a  pleasant  work,  to  go  up  to  the  mountain 
and  bring  wood  and  build  the  house,  when  we  are  convinced  the 
time  is  come,  and  the  Lord  saith,  "  He  will  take  pleasure  in  it,  and 
will  be  glorified." 

Every  motive  which  stimulates  to  vigorous  efforts  in  propagat- 
ing the  Gospel,  derives  additional  force  and  energy  from  this  word 
of  prophecy.  Is  the  glory  of.  God  an  impressive  argument  ?  At- 
tend to  the  prediction  before  us,  and  be  encouraged  to  hope,  that 
God,  who  hath  glorified  His  holy  name,  will  soon  glorify  it  again. 
He  will  make  Himself  known  throughout  the  whole  earth,  not  only 
in  His  Divine  perfections,  as  the  one  only  true  God,  but  in  the  ador- 
able manner  of  His  existence,  as  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  and 
will  be  worshiped  every  where  in  the  blessed  relation  of  Eedeemer 
as  well  as  Creator.  Doth  the  love  of  Christ  constrain  ?  Have  you 
crowned  Him  with  your  homage ;  and  often  grieved  at  the  contempt 
cast  upon  His  precious  name  and  cause  ?  See  what  is  doing  in  the 
churches!  To  Him  every  knee  will  bow;  "the  most  Mighty  is 
girding  His  sword  upon  His  thigh ;  the  arm  of  the  Lord  will  awake 


THE    ANGEL    WITH    THE    EVERLASTINQ    aOSPEL.    441 

as  in  the  ancient  days,  in  tlie  generations  of  old ;  and  tlie  people 
shall  fall  under  Him.  His  name  shall  endure  forever."  Are  you 
ajSfected  with  the  deplorable  condition  of  the  greatest  part  of  the 
world,  which  lieth  in  ignorance  and  wickedness  ?  Behold  the  ever- 
lasting Gospel  is  going  forth  to  every  tongue,  and  kindred,  and 
nation,  and  shall  universally  prevail.  Yet  a  little  while,  and  the 
people  that  walk  in  darkness  will  see  a  great  light,  and  upon  them 
that  dwell  in  the  land  of  the  shadow  of  death  will  the  light  shine. 
All  the  precepts  which  are  our  warrant  to  engage  in  this  work ;  all 
the  promises  which  are  our  encouragement  to  persevere  with  firm- 
ness, receive  new  weight  and  influence.  While  we  are  musing  upon 
the  prediction  before  us,  our  hearts  are  hot  within  us;  the  fixe 
burns ;  zeal  kindles  to  a  flame  ;  we  glow  with  ardor  to  perform  our 
part,  and  assist  the  flight  of  the  preaching  angel.  We  live  to  see 
the  dawn ;  we  long  to  see  the  day.  We  witness  at  least  the  begin- 
nings of  what  many  prophets  and  righteous  men  have  desired  to 
see,  and  have  not  seen  them.  For  those  of  us  who  are  advanced  in 
years,  let  this  suffice.  We  now  can  depart  in  peace !  We  shall 
hear  of  the  accomplishment,  and  join  with  those  who  rejoice  in 
heaven,  over  sinners  who  are  converted  to  Christ ! 


DISCOURSE    SEVENTIETH. 

AVILLIAM    WHITE,    D.  D. 

Bishop  White  was  bom  in  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  April  4th,  1748,  and 
educated  in  his  native  city.  After  graduating  from  his  collegiate  course 
and  studying  theology,  he  tisited  England,  and  received  deacon's  orders 
from  Dr.  Terrick,  then  bishop  of  London,  and  diocesan  of  all  the  Epis- 
copal churches  in  America.  On  his  return  he  was  settled  as  assistant 
minister  of  Christ  Church  and  St.  Peter's,  of  Philadelf»hia,  and  in  a  few 
years  was  chosen  rector  of  these  churches.  During  the  Revolutionary 
struggle  he  was  the  fi-iend  of  Washington,  and  was  elected  chaplain  to 
Congress,  at  Yorktown,  1777.  He  presided  at  the  Convention  for  the 
imion  of  the  different  Episcopal  churches  in  this  country,  and  as  bishop 
elect  of  Pennsylvania,  proceeded  to  England  for  bishop's  orders,  and 
was  consecrated  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury ;  after  which  he  re- 
turned and  commenced  the  duties  of  his  Ej^iscopate  in  1787.  The  place 
of  his  residence  was  Philadelphia ;  where  he  ceased  from  his  labors  on 
the  17th  of  July,  1836,  expiring  without  a  groan,  in  his  dwelling-house 
on  Walnut-street,  where  he  had  resided  for  more  than  fifty  years. 

Bishop  White  was  a  man  of  unquestioned  piety,  and  his  whole  life 
was  marked  by  complete  and  beautiful  consistency.  He  was  eminent 
as  the  minister  of  religion  in  the  councils  which  gave  liberty  to  his  coun- 
try, and  the  center  of  affection  to  a  large  community.  For  more  than 
foi*ty  years  he  was  the  senior  bishop  of  the  Episcopal  Communion,  where 
he  exerted  a  wide  influence,  mild  and  paternal.  He  was  a  man  of  con- 
siderable erudition  as  a  scholar,  and  as  a  preacher,  was  esteemed  for  his 
judicious  and  solid  instructions.  He  wrote  and  spoke  with  earnestness 
and  impressiveness,  and  often  invested  his  thoughts  with  great  beauty 
and  eloquence.  A  collection  of  his  sermons  has  been  published ;  and  the 
excellent  memoir  by  Dr.  Bird  Wilson,  is  a  fitting  tribute  to  his  worth. 

The  sermon  here  given  is  not  found  ui  his  printed  works.  It  is  kindly 
furnisher'  by  his  son,  Thomas  H.  White,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia ;  and  owes 
its  appearance  in  this  form  to  the  suggestions  of  several  distinguished 
Episcopal  clergymen,  who,  from  having  heard  it  dehvered,  or  other- 
wise, entertamed  a  high  estimate  of  its  value,  and  desired  to  see  it  in 
print.  The  subject  is  treated  with  much  discrimination  and  ability,  re- 
lieving it  from  difficulties,  and  rendering  it  profitable  for  instruction. 


THE    SIN    OF    DAVID    IN    THE    CASE    OF    URIAH.     443' 

THE  SIN  OF  DAYID  IN  THE  CASE  OP  URIAH. 

"  And  the  Lord  sent  Nathan  unto  David." — 2  Samuel,  xii.  1. 

The  chapter  of  wliicli  these  words  are  the  beginning,  has  been 
read  as  the  first  lesson  of  the  service  of  this  morning.  It  has  reference 
to  a  crime,  which,  considered  in  connection  with  the  character 
stained  by  it,  has  been  a  subject  of  mockery  with  the  profane,  and 
of  difficulty  with  many  of  the  devout.  There  being  an  annual  re- 
turn of  it  in  the  series  of  our  lessons  for  the  Sundays,  occasion  shall 
be  now  taken  to  bring  the  recorded  transaction  into  view  ;  and  the 
sentiments  to  be  offered  will  be  arranged  under  these  four  heads : 
the  sin  of  David — the  reproof  of  the  prophet — the  consequent  re- 
pentance— and  the  forgiveness. 

1st.  Of  the  sin  of  David.  He  accidentally  beheld  a  beautiful 
woman,  toward  whom  he  gave  a  loose  to  his  affections,  before  he 
discovered  that  she  was  the  wife  of  another.  Hearing  of  this  im- 
pediment to  the  gratification  of  his  unlawful  passion,  he  became 
guilty  of  an  action  inconsistent  with  his  profession  of  religion,  and 
with  the  clearest  dictates  of  the  sense  of  honor.  Perhaps,  as  power 
is  intoxicating,  he  conceived  of  himself  as  not  subjected  to  the  ordi- 
nary rules  of  society.  But  to  bring  disgrace  on  his  reign,  or  dan- 
ger to  his  person,  was  not  within  his  contemplation.  To  guard 
against  these,  he  invented  a  piece  of  base  cunning,  in  order  to  de- 
ceive a  husband,  already  injured  beyond  the  possibility  of  reparation. 
The  husband,  Uriah,  doubtless,  either  from  suspicion,  or  prompted 
by  some  intimation  of  the  wrong  done  to  him,  avoided  the  snare. 
Now,  the  king  found  it  necessary  to  rid  himself  of  a  man  whom  he 
was  not  able  to  impose  on.  For  this  purpose  he  sent  an  order  to  his 
general,  to  put  Uriah  "  in  the  hottest  of  the  battle."  In  this,  he 
probitbly  found  a  palliative  for  his  conscience ;  for,  what  was  it, 
but  to  give  to  a  brave  soldier  a  post  of  honor  ?  Accordingly,  the 
narrative  tells  us,  that  Joab  "  appointed  him  a  place,  where  he  knew 
the  valiant  men  were."  No  doubt  the  victim  considered  himself  as 
honored  by  the  appointment,  while  it  gave  occasion  to  the  king  to 
solace  himself  with  the  thought,  that  it  was  the  enemy  and  not  he, 
who  put  an  end  to  the  life  of  his  subject.  But  religion  and  virtue 
abhor  the  distinction,  as  appears  in  the  succeeding  part  of  the  story. 
■  In  the  statement  of  the  sin  of  David,  it  has  been  intended,  not 
so  much  to  dwell  on  the  atrocity  of  it — for  which,  however,  no  cen- 
sure can  be  too  severe — as  to  remark  from  it,  how  imperceptibly 
one  sin  prepares  the  way  for  another.     At  first,  that  of  David  was 


444  "WILLIAM    WHITE, 

licentious  love.  Next,  lie  was  carried  to  adultery ;  witli  -wbicli  lie 
may  at  first  have  thought  it  unconnected.  This  drove  him  to  a  se- 
cret expedient,  unworthy  of  an  ingenuous  mind,  and  very  different 
from  other  incidents  in  his  life.  At  last  he  was  precipitated  to  the 
highest  crime  against  society — that  of  murder  :  of  such  a  murder  as 
is  aggravated  by  the  character  of  the  sufferer,  by  the  occasion  of  his 
fall,  by  the  deliberation  with  which  it  was  pursued,  and  by  the  ob- 
duracy with  which  the  tidings  of  it  were  received. 

The  second  particular,  is  the  reproof  of  the  prophet ;  in  which, 
in  connection  with  the  respect  due  to  the  station  of  the  offender, 
there  is  the  intrepidity  of  the  man  of  God. 

In  order  to  extort  from  David  the  sentence  of  his  own  condemna- 
tion, Nathan  wrapped  up  the  purpose  of  his  mission  in  a  parable,  tell- 
ing the  king  "there  were  two  men  in  the  same  city,  the  one  rich  and 
the  other  poor."  Here  w^e  may  remark,  that  the  prophet  considered 
the  case  of  a  subject  as  a  sufficient  illustration  of  the  duty  of  a  prince, 
station  and  power,  in  his  estimation,  being  no  dispensation  from  the 
obligations  of  justice.  This  is  a  truth  which  it  would  have  been  un- 
necessary to  mention,  were  it  not  that  in  all  times  and  places,  there 
is  a  jDropensity  in  human  nature  which,  unless  either  controlled  by 
the  potent  energy  of  religion,  or  kept  down  by  fear,  makes  so  corrupt 
a  use  of  any  advantages  of  birth  or  of  wealth  even  in  a  very  moder- 
ate measure  to  be  boasted  of.  In  the  eyes  of  the  dissolute  possessors 
of  them  they  appear  in  the  light  of  a  legitimate  means  of  oppression 
and  of  the  gratification  of  passion.  This  is  the  hinge  on  which  there 
turns  a  great  proportion  of  the  cases  of  the  seduction  of  the  female 
children  of  the  poor,  whose  condition,  in  the  estimation  of  their  more 
elevated  betrayers,  divests  them  of  the  claims  alike  of  justice  and 
of  compassion. 

To  go  on  with  the  parable — "The  rich  man  had  exceeding  many 
flocks  and  herds,  but  the  poor  man  had  one  only  ewe-lamb,  which 
grew  up  with  him  and  his  children,  and  lay  with  him  in  his  bosom, 
and  was  unto  him  as  a  daughter."  The  latter  part  of  the  sentence  is 
beautifully  expressive  of  the  domestic  condition  of  Uriah.  Analagous 
to  the  rich  man,  with  his  exceeding  many  flocks  and  herds,  there 
was  the  king,  who  had  various  sources  of  satisfaction.  Besides  the 
extent  of  his  possessions,  there  was  the  homage  of  his  attendants,  the 
obedience  of  all  his  subjects,  the  successes  of  his  arms,  and  the  respect 
of  the  neighboring  nations.  But  as  for  Uriah,  the  felicity  of  private 
life  was  his  all  From  this  he  had  torn  himself  to  discharge  his  duty 
to  his  prince ;  and  to  this  he  hoped  to  return  after  the  toils  and  the 
hazards  of  war.     But  he  hoped  for  it  in  vain.     The  rapacious  hand 


THE    SIN    OF    DAYID    IN    THE    CASE    OP    URIAH.       445 

of  the  ricli  man  had  seized  on  the  jooor  man's  ewe-lamb,  and,  in  the 
end,  had  taken  the  life  of  the  injured  owner.  Here  the  fable  falls 
short  of  the  guilt  at  which  it  was  aimed.  For  although  the  prophet 
designed  to  bring  the  moral  home  to  the  bosom  of  the  king,  he 
avoided  the  making  of  the  narrative  too  explicit,  lest  it  should  fall 
short  of  the  effect  for  which  it  was  contrived.  But  where  it  deviates 
from  an  exact  parallel,  it  is  in  such  circumstances  as  make  the  sen- 
tence of  the  offender  apply  with  more  force  to  himself  than  to  the  fic- 
titious object  of  his  resentment. 

No  sooner  did  the  King  of  Israel  hear  of  the  flagrant  crime  in  the 
parable,  than,  little  imagining  it  to  be  intended  for  himself,  he  de- 
nounced merited  punishment  of  the  criminal.  For  "  David's  anger 
was  greatly  kindled  against  the  man ;  and  he  said  unto  Nathan,  As 
the  Lord  liveth,  and  as  thy  soul  liveth,  the  man  that  hath  done  this 
thing  shall  surely  die ;  and  he  shall  restore  the  lamb  fourfold,  because 
he  hath  done  this  thing,  and  because  he  had  no  pity."  Could  we 
forget  the  design  of  the  parable,  we  must  commend  the  righteous  in- 
dignation of  the  ruler  of  a  people,  and  we  must  venerate  his  just 
judgment  in  the  vindication  of  the  cause  of  the  oppressed,  and  for 
the  humbling  of  the  petty  tyrant  of  a  neighborhood.  But,  alas  !  him- 
self was  the  offender ;  and  that  in  a  greater  degree  than  in  the  case 
against  which  his  sentence  was  directed.  Here  comes  in  the  moral 
of  the  fable.  Here  the  prophet  shows  that  his  address,  although 
courtly,  was  not  that  of  a  person  backward  to  declare  the  truth  with- 
out disguise.  In  short,  here  the  astonished  king  is  overpowed  by 
the  unexpected  thunder  of  a  personal  application.  "  And  Nathan 
said  unto  David,  Thou  art  the  man."  How  comprehensive  the  accu- 
sation !  as  if  it  had  been  said — ^Thou  art  the  man  who  hast  broken 
down  the  inclosures  of  private  right,  which  it  should  have  been  the 
glory  of  thy  character  to  have  defended.  Thou  art  the  man  who, 
not  content  with  the  abundance  which  a  gracious  Providence  has 
showered  down  on  him,  hath  seized  on  the  little  all  of  his  unprotected 
neighbor.  And  thou  hast  filled  up  the  measure  of  thy  guilt  in  the 
murder  of  a  virtuous  subject,  whose  loyalty  gave  thee  an  opportunity 
of  wounding  his  honor,  and  whose  valor  made  it  afterward  easy  to 
thee  to  take  away  his  life. 

There  is  something  especially  interesting  in  the  notice  taken  by 
the  prophet  of  the  expedient  adopted  for  the  insuring  of  the  death 
of  Uriah.  It  has  been  already  remarked  that  the  king  had  probably 
discharged  the  weight  of  the  guilt  from  his  conscience,  on  the  plea 
of  the  hostile  sword  by  which  the  deed  had  been  accomplished.  But 
his  censor  plainly  declares — "  Thou  hast  slain  him  by  the  sword  of 


446  WILLIAM    WHITE. 

the  children  of  Ammon ;"  as  if  it  bad  been  said — Thou  mayest  speak 
peace  to  thyself  by  reflecting  that  it  was  the  sword  of  a  public  ene- 
my which  slew  Uriah.  But  that  sword  was  the  instrument  of  thy 
lawless  lust ;  and  far  from  being  an  excuse,  it  is  an  aggravation  of 
the  crime,  that  he  was  surrendered  to  a  hostile  army  against  which 
he  was  guarding  thy  throne  and  person. 

The  prophet,  after  these  close  appeals  to  the  conscience  of  the 
criminal,  goes  on  to  particularize  the  mercies  of  Providence  toward 
him.  lie  reminds  him  of  his  having  been  raised  from  a  private  sta- 
tion to  the  throne — of  the  abundance  of  his  riches — of  his  deliverance 
from  the  rage  of  his  jealous  predecessor — of  his  complete  sovereignty 
over  Israel  and  Judah — and  of  evidence  of  this  sovereigntj'-  in  the 
circumstances  that  even  his  master's  wives  were  under  his  protection, 
and  in  his  power ;  for  it  is  to  this  that  the  prophet  alludes,  and  not 
to  marriage  with  them,  which  never  happened — the  address  conclud- 
ing with  the  following  affectionate  addition — "And  if  this  had  been 
too  little  for  thee,  I  would  moreover  have  done  for  thee  such  and 
such  things."  "Well  might  David  perceive  the  immensity  of  his 
crime,  and  well  might  horror  take  such  possession  of  him  that  at  first 
he  could  only  find  utterance  for  the  exclamation — "  I  have  sinned 
against  the  Lord,"  which  is  the  third  particular. 

Short  indeed  is  the  confession  here  on  record,  even  as  it  stands 
in  the  history  ;  however,  there  are  the  traces  of  an  ingenuous  mind, 
not  taking  refuge  either  in  denial  or  in  extenuation.  But,  to  supply 
the  omission  of  history,  in  the  reasonable  principle  of  "comparing 
spiritual  things  with  spiritual,"  we  must  direct  our  attention  to  the 
penitential  sorrow  of  David,  as  vented  in  the  Book  of  Psalms.  Is 
it  possible  that  there  should  have  followed  such  agony  of  grief,  and 
that  it  should  not  have  discharged  itself  during  the  intercourse  with 
Nathan  ?  The  contrary  is  a  reasonable  construction,  when  there 
are  taken  into  one  view  the  different  records  from  the  same  source 
of  inspiration,  which  makes  the  Book  of  Psalms  interpretative  of 
the  narrative  in  the  second  Book  of  Samuel. 

It  is  thus  that  the  royal  penitent  humbles  himself  in  the  former 
of  these  books:  ''I  acknowledge  my  sin  unto  Thee,  and  mine  in- 
iquity have  I  not  hid;"  and  in  another  place,  "I  am  wearj^  of  groan- 
ing ;  every  night  wash  I  my  bed,  and  water  my  couch  with  my 
tears."  How  deep  must  have  been  the  anguish  which  could  dictate 
penitential  language  so  expressive  of  abhorrence  of  the  crime  ! 
Again,  he  exclaims,  "  Have  mercy  on  me,  0  Lord,  after  Thy  great 
goodness,  according  to  the  multitude  of  Thy  mercies,  do  away  mine 
offenses ;"  and,  "  Make  me  to  hear  of  joy  and  gladness,  that  the 


THE    SIN    OP    DAVID    IN    THE    CASE    OP    URIAH.       447 

bones  wLicli  Thou  hast  broken  may  rejoice."  What  a  union  of  fer- 
vor with  humility  !  and  how  expressive  of  a  mind,  conscious  indeed 
of  the  commission  of  sin,  but  possessed  of  a  hearty  detestation  of  it. 
Again,  we  read,  "  Wash  me  thoroughly  from  my  wickedness,  and 
cleanse  me  from  my  sin  ;"  and  again,  "  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart, 
0  God,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me."  Surely  the  mind  which, 
could  dictate  such  strains  must  have  retained  a  high  sense  of  the 
purity  of  the  divine  law.  Farther,  "  Cast  me  not  away  from  Thy 
presence,  nor  take  Thy  Holy  Spirit  from  me."  Here  it  would  seem 
that  the  horrors  of  a  guilty  conscience  had  almost  driven  the  suf- 
ferer to  despair. 

These  devotional  strains  of  David  are  recited  as  doing  justice  to 
his  character,  not  as  cleansing  it  from  the  stain.  Here  it  may  be 
proper  to  correct  a  mistake,  which  has  arisen  from  the  misconstruc- 
tion of  his  being  called  in  Scripture  "  a  man  after  God's  oavu  heart." 
It  has  been  considered  as  holding  him  up  in  the  light  of  a  person 
eminently  commendable  for  holy  conduct.  But  no  ;  it  is  intended, 
not  of  his  private,  but  of  his  public  character ;  and  of  this  princi- 
pally in  relation  to  his  uninterrupted  perseverance  in  the  worship  of 
the  one  true  God.  It  is  well  known  that  idolatry  was  a  sin  to  which 
the  Israelitish  nation,  in  imitation  of  their  neighbors,  were  excess- 
ively addicted.  Accordingly,  their  institutions  were  especially  iu- 
tended  to  guard  them  against  it,  as  may  be  perceived  in  every  de- 
partment of  the  Levitical  law.  For  the  same  reason,  the  praises  and 
the  censures  passed  on  their  several  monarchs  had  principally  a  re- 
gard to  this  feature  of  their  divinely -instituted  policy. 

The  distinction  may  be  illustrated  thus  :  It  sometimes  happens 
in  a  human  government  that,  in  the  administration  of  its  powers, 
there  is  expected  to  be  kept  in  view  some  prominent  object,  con- 
nected, perhaps  with  local  interests,  or  perhaps  with  a  certain  cast  of 
national  character,  associated  in  idea  with  former  events,  and  with 
reverence  of  the  wisdom  of  former  times.  In  estimating  the  merits 
of  the  chief  ruler  of  such  a  country,  we  should  contemplate  him 
with  some  reference  to  the  peculiarities  of  his  station,  not  to  the  ex- 
cusing of  him  from  the  law  of  moral  right,  suited  to  all  persons,  and 
places,  and  times ;  but  to  the  making  of  favorable  allowances  on  the 
score  of  his  sacred  regard  to  the  principles  of  the  constitution.  In 
the  theocracy  administered  by  David,  the  highest  duty  lying  on  him 
was  the  sustaining  of  the  prerogative  of  the  Great  King  under 
whose  delegated  authority  he  reigned.  In  either  of  the  cases  stated, 
our  commendations  of  the  ruler  in  his  public  acts  are  not  to  be  .tested 
exclusively  by  the  rule  of  moral  right,  and  without  regard  to  the 


448  WILLIAM    WHITE. 

claims  of  official  character.  It  was  on  a  different  ground  that  he 
stood  accountable  at  the  bar  of  God. 

As  to  the  personal  character  of  David,  some  of  his  actions  show 
him  possessed  of  the  most  generous  affections,  almost  beyond  exam- 
ple. There  are  others  which,  although  very  blamable,  ought  not  to 
be  judged  of  according  to  the  more  civilized  standard  and  the  more 
humane  maxims  of  later  times.  Even  the  inspiration  of  prophecy 
ought  not  to  be  admitted  in  proof  of  a  character  presented  as  a 
model.  Prophets  are  spoken  of  as  to  be  "  cut  off  for  their  iniquity ;" 
and  the  case  of  Balaam  dying  in  his  sin  is  on  record  to  the  same 
"effect.  Much  easier,  then,  may  we  conceive  of  a  very  defective 
character  consistent  with  general  rectitude  and  favored  with  the  gift 
in  question. 

To  speak  impartially  of  David,  his  character  is  of  a  mixed  kind ; 
and  especially  the  actions  which  have  been  considered  are  in  oppo- 
sition to  every  sentiment  of  integrity.  Yet,  in  what  has  been  said, 
it  appears  that,  however  great  his  sin,  his  repentance  was  most  ex- 
emplary ;  and  therefore  his  case  can  never  be  an  encouragement  to 
the  obdurate  offender,  nor  warrant  his  expectation  of  a  similar  for- 
giveness.    This  leads  to  the  fourth  particular. 

"  The  Lord,"  says  Nathan,  "  hath  put  away  thy  sin."  It  has 
been  already  remarked,  on  the  ground  of  the  penitential  Psalms  to 
which  the  transaction  gave  occasion,  that  an  intervening  expression 
of  deep  repentance  is  to  be  presumed.  Further,  it  ought  not  to  be 
overlooked  that  the  pardon  is  announced  in  the  name  of  an  omnis- 
cient Being,  who  discerns  the  first  pangs  of  a  spirit  truly  penitent. 
But  there  may  seem  to  remain  a  difficulty  on  the  face  of  the  passage. 
The  difficulty  is  this  :  When  Nathan  was  reproaching  David  with  his 
sin,  he  denounced  against  him  the  threat,  "  Now,  therefore,  the  sword 
shall  never  depart  from  thy  house  ;"  and  although  there  was  after- 
ward pronounced  forgiveness,  with  the  exception  of  the  penalty  of 
the  loss  of  an  infant  child,  yet,  even  during  the  life  of  David,  the 
threat  began  to  be  executed  after  so  signal  a  manner,  in  the  incest 
of  one  of  his  sons,  in  the  rebellion  of  another,  and  in  the  untimely 
end  of  both,  that  it  is  impossible  to  overlook  the  correspondence 
between  the  prediction  and  the  events. 

To  solve  the  difficulty,  it  should  be  remembered  that  all  those 
crimes  which  are  outrages  on  social  order,  naturally  lead  to  such 
consequences  as  punish  the  offenders  in  the  persons  of  their  fami- 
lies. If  Scripture  had  contained  no  such  declaration  as  that  of 
God's  visiting  of  the  sins  of  parents  on  their  children ;  yet,  as  it  is 
applicable  to  temporal  calamity,  and  to  a  corrupt  influence  on  mor- 


THE    SIN    OF    DAVID    IN    THE    CASE    OP    URIAH.       449 

als — for  of  those  points  only,  it  could  have  been  intended — the  sense 
of  the  declaration  is  apparent  in  the  course  of  Divine  Providence, 
and  can  not  have  escaped  the  notice  of  the  most  superficial  observer. 
The  personal  forgiveness  indulged  to  the  King  of  Israel,  in  consid- 
eration of  his  penitence,  did  not  break  the  connection  between  causes 
and  their  effects ;  did  not  prevent  the  adultery  of  the  father  from 
reconciling  his  son  Ammon  to  lewdness  in  another  line ;  nor  the 
murder  of  an  innocent  subject,  from  being  such  an  example  of  vio- 
lence to  his  son  Absalom,  as  may  have  caused  him  to  aspire  to  de- 
throne his  father.  This  connection  is  stamped  on  the  unchanging 
laws  of  God  in  nature :  and  it  becomes  every  man,  instead  of  arraign- 
ing the  appointment,  to  bring  support  to  his  domestic  happiness  by 
the  instrumentality  of  a  good  example.  To  put  out  of  view  such 
crimes  as  are  immediately  invasions  in  the  peace  of  society,  it  may 
be  acted  on  indirectly  by  hereditary  depravity,  in  a  variety  of  ways. 
Every  man  whose  conduct  or  whose  conversation  has  a  tendency  to 
release  the  consciences  of  his  children  from  the  sense  of  responsi- 
bility to  a  righteous  Judge,  or  even  has  not  a  tendency  to  sustain 
that  authority,  and  to  induce  subjection  to  it,  knows  not  to  what 
extent  there  is  laid  a  train  of  causes,  which  shall  eventuate  in  the 
temporal  and  the  eternal  ruin  of  those  within  his  sphere  of  in- 
fluence. 

Still,  there  is  before  us  the  pardon  of  a  stupendous  crime,  which 
may  be  a  ground  of  hope,  not  for  sin  in  prospect,  not  for  that  which 
has  not  been  succeeded  by  the  pangs  of  penitence,  leading  to  a 
change  of  heart  and  a  reformation  of  life,  but  to  a  spirit  humbled 
under  the  sense  of  transgression,  and  to  a  conscience  which  might 
otherwise  be  driven  to  despair. 

From  the  review  of  the  transaction,  let  us  learn  the  importance 
of  the  admonition — "be  not  high-minded,  but  fear;"  and  "let  him 
that  thinketh  he  standeth,  take  heed  lest  he  fall."  K  such  a  person 
as  David,  whose  writings  contain  the  most  just  and  elevated  senti- 
ments concerning  the  attributes  of  God  and  human  duty  and  devo- 
tional compositions  admirably  descriptive  of  the  breathings  of  holy 
desire,  could  be  so  far  put  off  his  guard  by  a  life  of  ease  and  afflu- 
ence, as  to  be  gradually  drawn  into  crimes  of  the  deepest  dye ;  what 
a  reason  is  it  for  humility,  for  vigilance,  and  for  a  constant  implor- 
ing of  the  Divine  aid ! 

As  his  fall  should  be  a  warning  to  the  secure,  so  his  repentance 

should  be  an  example  to  the  sinner,  than  which  there  could  have 

been  more  teeming  with  anguish  and  self-reproach.     But  if  any 

should  make  it  an  encouragement  of  presumption,  they  manifest 

29 


450  WILLIAM    WHITE. 

such  a  contrariety  to  his  character,  in  respect  to  a  sense  of  moral 
worth  and  the  indispensable  requisitions  of  religion,  as  makes  it  too 
probable  that  they  will  never  be  like  him  in  his  seeking  and  his  ob- 
taining of  forgiveness. 

Eather,  therefore,  let  it  be  a  motive  with  all,  for  the  keeping 
of  their  passions  in  subjection.  Yes,  0  man,  let  it  be  a  lesson  to 
thee,  against  the  indulgence  of  licentious  desires.  Let  it  also  lead 
thee  to  reflect  on  the  miseries  which  this  destroyer  is  daily  heaping 
on  the  human  kind.  When  thou  seest  him  offering  up  his  victims 
to  vice  and  infamy  ;  when  thou  tracest  his  achievements  in  the  births 
of  infants,  the  heirs  of  want  and  wickedness ;  when  thou  beholdest 
the  untimely  graves,  which  have  opened  for  the  reception  of  his 
votaries ;  when  thou  observest  him  invading  every  thing  sacred  in 
private  life,  and  blasting  all  the  friendships  which  arise  from  its 
relations;  and  lastly^  when  thou  followest  him  through  scenes  of 
contention,  of  malice,  and  of  bloodshed,  the  effects  of  his  mischiev- 
ous frenzy,  ask  thyself  whether  it  be  possible  he  should  bestow  an}'- 
satisfaction,  which  shall  repay  thee  for  the  consciousness  of  having 
contributed  to  this  mass  of  misery.  Let  the  sentiment  be  impressed 
by  the  anticipation  of  feelings,  which  may  possess  thee  in  thy  dying 
hour,  when  thou  shalt  look  back  on  thy  actions,  as  following  thee 
to  judgment.  Let  the  effect  of  such  reflections  be  the  guarding  of 
thine  heart,  by  the  wholesome  instructions  of  God's  word.  And 
put  up  thy  daily  prayers  for  the  assistances  of  His  grace,  which  is 
comjDCtent  to  the  raising  of  thee  above  the  power  of  thy  corruptions. 
That  grace,  if  duly  cultivated,  will  carry  thee  on  to  the  end  of  life, 
not  only  without  the  consciousness  of  flagrant  crime,  but  with  such 
purity  and  self-command  as  is  the  source  of  pleasures  infinitely 
superior  to  those  of  sensuality  and  excess. 

In  regard  to  the  past,  there  is  a  circumstance  in  the  case  of  David, 
which  should  be  held  out  in  warning  to  those  who  carry  in  their 
consciences  the  guilt  of  unrepented  sin.  That  royal  offender  had 
dishonored  a  subject,  and  then  compassed  his  death:  and  yet,  for  any 
thing  that  appears,  considerable  time  had  passed  without  self-con- 
demnation, between  the  dates  of  those  atrocities  and  the  Divine 
message  by  the  prophet.  Many  are  the  sins  continually  practiced, 
which,  although  not  meeting  like  his  the  public  eye,  are  like  it  in 
the  circumstance  of  their  being  destructive  of  the  peace  of  others, 
and  ruinous  to  their  prospects.  If  there  should  be  any  one  within 
hearing,  conscious  of  having  been  guilty  of  an  action  of  this  de- 
scription, whether  it  be  in  a  degree  like  that  of  David ;  or  in  any 
other  way  the  cause  of  unmerited  injury  and  suffering-,  to  such  a 


THE    SIN    OF    DAVID    IN    THE    CASE    OF    URIAH.     45I 

person  the  moral  of  Nathan's  parable  speaks.  Or  rather,  the  min- 
isters of  the  Gospel  may  consider  themselves  as  speaking  to  him, 
under  a  commission  as  authoritative  as  that  of  Nathan,  and  saying, 
Thou  art  the  man  who  hast  abused  the  advantages,  whatever  they 
were,  which  had  been  bestowed  on  thee  by  nature  or  by  Providence. 
Be  assured,  that  for  this,  "  God  will  bring  thee  into  judgment."  Ee- 
pent,  therefore,  while  the  day  of  grace  remains.  Under  the  opera- 
tion of  the  Holy  Spirit,  "let  there  be  made  a  clean  heart,  and 
renewed  a  right  spirit  within  thee :"  and  by  exemplary  conduct  in 
future,  do  what  is  in  thy  power  to  make  amends  to  the  community 
of  mankind,  for  the  portion  of  sorrow  which  they  have  received 
from  thee. 

In  regard  to  all  of  us,  and  in  regard  to  every  deviation  from  the 
holy  Spirit  of  the  Divine  law,  let  the  subject  excite  that  sensibility 
of  conscience,  which  will  render  us  accessible  to  the  ordinary  re- 
proofs and  threatenings  of  the  Divine  word.  They  are  all  such  as 
may  be  usefully  brought  home  to  the  heart  of  the  individual  hearer. 
Let  them,  therefore,  not  to  mention  the  commisson  of  sin,  but  in 
regard  to  all  neglect  of  duty,  be  considered  as  personally  addressing 
us  with  the  admonition  that  we  are  so  far  falling  short  of  a  prepara- 
tion for  "the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light;"  and  further  as  invit- 
ing us  to  "redeem  the  time,"  since  "the  night  of  death  approaches, 
in  which  no  man  can  work." 

Brethren,  it  will  not  be  irrelative  to  the  subject  to  remark,  that 
in  the  address  of  Nathan,  with  its  effect  on  the  conscience  of  David, 
we  have  an  anticipation  of  the  energy  with  which  the  preached  Gos- 
pel has  been  since  clothed  by  its  great  Ordainer.  Many  and  often 
have  been  the  occasions  on  which  there  has  been  manifested  the 
property  of  the  word  of  God,  significantly  described  as  "a  two-edged 
sword,  piercing  to  the  dividing  asunder  of  soul  and  spirit."  Some- 
times it  has  been  like  the  arrow  of  "  a  bow  drawn  at  a  venture  but 
piercing  through  the  joints  and  the  harness."  Sometimes  the  hearer 
has  been  at  a  loss  to  conjecture  in  what  way  the  thoughts  of  his 
heart  became  so  exactly  known,  as  to  draw  down  animadversion 
from  the  pulpit,  when  his  case  and  perhaps  his  person,  Avere  un- 
known to  the  preacher,  and  when  the  true  cause  was  the  adaptation 
of  the  word  of  God,  to  the  workings  of  human  nature.  Sometimes 
there  have  been  excited  sensibilities,  not  seldom  ending  either  in 
extravagance,  or  in  "  the  goodness  which  passes  away  like  the  morn- 
ing cloud ;"  while  in  other  cases  they  have  had  salutary  and  lasting 
effects  in  silence  and  retirement.  Sometimes  the  sinner,  thus  brought 
to  a  sense  of  the  error  of  his  ways,  has  immediately  entered  on  the 


452  WILLIAM    WHITE. 

work  of  reformation ;  wliile  sometimes,  without  any  visible  effect 
at  tlie  present,  the  seed,  lodged  in  a  favoring  soil,  has  felt  the  foster- 
ing influence  of  succeeding  events  of  life,  propitious  to  its  vegeta- 
tion and  to  its  growth.  In  all  this  there  has  been  verified  the  prom- 
ise of  the  Saviour,  of  being  "  with  His  Church  to  the  end  of  the 
world."  While  it  admonishes  every  minister  of  the  Gospel,  of 
the  weight  of  his  responsibility;  it  is  equally  interesting  to  his 
hearers ;  intimating  to  them  the  importance  of  keeping  their  hearts 
open  to  a  property  of  the  Divine  word,  by  which  they  may  be  either 
reformed  or  edified,  as  their  several  cases  may  require.  It  should 
especially  be  borne  in  mind,  that  when  any  truth  of  Scripture  is 
winged  with  effect  to  the  conscience  or  to  the  affections,  it  is  by  the 
energy  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  without  which,  even  "  Paul  may 
plant,  and  ApoUos  water"  in  vain ;  and  that,  while  on  the  one  hand, 
the  said  blessed  Agent  may  be  "  resisted,"  may  be  "  grieved,"  may 
be  "  quenched  ;"  on  the  other  hand,  where  there  is  a  yielding  to  his 
governance,  it  will  be  fruitful  of  the  "  peacepassing  understanding," 
and  will  "keep"  the  possessor  of  it,  "  through  faith  unto  salvation." 


DISCOURSE    SEVENTY.FIRST. 

JOHN    LELAND. 

This  celebrated  preacher  was  born  in  Grafton,  Massachusetts,  May 
14,  1754;  and  ui  1774  united  with  the  Baptist  Church  in  Bellingham, 
from  which  body  he  received  Ucense  to  preach  at  the  age  of  twenty  years. 
He  was  ordained  in  1776.  His  first  ministerial  labors  were  in  Vh-gmia, 
Pennsylvania,  and  South  Carolina,  where  he  had  a  circuit  of  one  him- 
dred  and  twenty  miles  in  length.  For  some  time,  revivals  almost  con- 
stantly followed  his  labors.  In  about  two  years  he  had  baptized  four 
hundred  individuals.  In  the  fourteen  years  of  his  preaching,  in  that  part 
of  the  coxmtry,  he  baptized  seven  hundred.  In  1790  he  removed  to  New 
England.  After  preaching  awhile  in  Connecticut  and  in  Conway,  Massa- 
chusetts, he  settled  at  Cheshire,  in  the  latter  State,  where  he  resided  for 
nearly  half  a  century,  though  making  frequent  preaching  tours  through 
Vermont,  Virginia,  N"ew  York,  and  many  other  States.  He  died  in 
January  1841,  in  his  eighty-seventh  year. 

The  life  of  Leland  was  one  of  astonishing  activity  and  distinguished 
usefulness.  During  his  ministry  of  sixty-eight  years  he  traveled  seventy- 
five  thousand  miles,  preached  eight  thousand  sermons,  and  baptized  one 
thousand  five  hundred  converts  to  Christ.  Wherever  he  went  he  pro- 
duced a  sensation.  He  was  hstened  to  by  pohticians,  and  by  the  rehg- 
ious,  by  the  learned  and  the  unlearned,  by  the  refined  and  the  vulgar, 
by  the  young  and  the  old,  and  always  with  intense  interest,  sometimes 
causing  them  to  weep  by  his  pathos  and  power,  and  sometimes  pro- 
ducing the  contrary  effect  by  his  marked  eccentricities.  Sternly  in- 
dependent, a  true  patriot  and  defender  of  civil  and  religious  rights,  pos- 
sessed of  rare  natural  endowments,  shrewd,  clear-headed,  absolutely 
fearless  in  the  discharge  of  duty,  whether  in  the  pulpit,  council,  or  legis- 
lative chamber,  he  was  sure  to  excite  attention  and  leave  the  im- 
press of  his  strong  will.  Besides  his  numerous  contributions  to  periodi- 
cals, political,  moral,  and  reUgious,  he  published  over  thii-ty  pamphlets, 
sermons  and  poems. 

Leland  belonged  to  a  class  of  ministers  now  rapidly  passing  away — 
self  made,  deep-thinkhig,  strong-minded,  gospel-loving,  hard-working,  and 
often  emmently  useful  men,  who  toiled  for  their  Master,  and  looked  for 


454  JOHN    LELAND. 

their  reward  in  heaven.  We  introduce  the  following  sermon  not  only  as 
a  specLinen  from  this  class  of  preachers,  but  as  exhibiting  the  marks  of 
decided  genius,  and  powers  of  graphic  description.  It  is  very  lengthy, 
and  its  chief  excellence  lies  in  the  first  part — the  portion  of  it  which  is 
selected — and  which  is  a  sublime  prose-poem.  It  was  first  preached  at 
Grafton,  Massachusetts.  A  few  unimportant  alterations  are  made,  to 
suit  the  abridged  form  m  which  it  is  here  given. 


THE    JAERINGS    OF    HEAYEN   RECONCILED    BY    THE 
BLOOD  OF  THE  CROSS. 

"And  by  Him  to  reconcile  all  things  unto  Himself;  by  Him,  I  say,  whether  they  be 
things  in  earth  or  things  in  heaven." — COLOSSIANS,  L  20. 

The  reconciliation  of  "  things  in  heaven,"  is  the  part  of  the  text 
which  I  shall  attend  to. 

Let  reverence  and  humility  possess  my  heart,  while  I  develop 
the  character  of  the  Deity — and  let  all  who  hear  me,  at  awful  dis- 
tance, bow. 

All  the  changes  that  have  taken  place  from  the  beginning  until 
now,  and  all  that  will  take  place  hereafter,  give  to  the  Almighty  no 
new  ideas,  furnish  Him  with  no  novel  matter  for  consideration. 
Things  which  are  past,  present,  or  to  come,  with  men,  are  all  in  the 
eternal  now  of  the  great  Jehovah  ;  and  yet  He  speaks  of  Himself 
as  if  thoughts  and  designs  entered  His  mind  in  a  train  of  succession. 

The  Divine  Being  is  not  composed  of  parts,  or  possessed  of  pas- 
sions like  men  ;  He  nevertheless,  in  condescension  to  our  weakness, 
speaks  of  Himself  as  having  head,  eyes,  ears,  face,  mouth,  etc. ;  also 
as  being  jealous,  angry,  pacified,  reconciled,  having  His  anger  turned 
away,  and  the  like. 

Our  text  implies  a  contention  in  heaven ;  and  that  the  Father  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  undertook  to  reconcile  the  contending  parties 
to  Himself,  by  Jesus  Christ ;  and  that  Jesus  obtained  a  peace  among 
all  the  jarring  interests  in  heaven,  by  the  blood  of  the  cross. 

The  particulars  to  be  attended  to,  are, 

I.  To  explain  the  cause  of  this  contention  ;  and, 

II.  To  nominate  the  parties  at  variance,  together  with  their  re- 
spective pleas. 

First.  I  am  to  explain  the  cause  of  this  contention.  The  rebel- 
lion of  man  against  His  God,  is  that  which  gave  rise  to  this  conten- 


THE    JAREINGS    OF    HEAVEN    RECONCILED.  455 

tion.  When  this  contention  began  in  lieaven  (to  speak  after  tlie 
manner  of  men)  the  great  I  AM  arraigned  the  criminal,  man,  and 
summoned  all  the  contending  parties  to  appear  and  make  their  pleas, 
before  the  great  white  throne  of  divine  glory.     "Which  leads  me, 

Secondly.  To  treat  of  the  contending  parties  and  their  pleas. 
The  Holy  Laiv  began :  "  My  rise  is  not  from  revelation,  although 
that  does  me  honor ;  throughout  the  second  volume  I  hold  conspic- 
uous rank  and  have  been  magnified  and  obeyed  by  the  Son  of  God. 
But  my  origin  is  from  the  great  scale  of  being  itself;  so  that  if  there 
had  been  no  revelation  among  men,  honor  and  regard  would  have 
been  my  due.  Yet  with  all  the  sacred  majesty  due  to  my  character, 
man,  the  dependent  creature,  has  risen  in  rebellion  and  disregarded 
my  voice  ;  not  only  in  one  instance,  but  sin,  taking  advantage  by 
me,  has  wrought  in  him  all  manner  of  concupiscence — so  that  the 
imagination  of  his  heart  is  only  evil  continually.  Now  we  know  a 
law  is  nothing  without  a  penalty  to  enforce  it ;  and  a  penalty  threat- 
ened is  but  a  piece  of  mockery  unless  it  is  executed.  In  this  case, 
therefore,  should  man  escape  with  impunity,  the  Divine  government 
would  be  reduced  to  contempt,  and  every  fugitive  vagrant  would  be 
hardened  in  his  wickedness.  My  demand,  therefore,  is,  that  man 
should  die  without  mercy." 

Truth  next  approached  the  throne,  and  after  attending  to  and 
confirming  all  which  the  holy  law  had  said,  added,  "  The  soul  that 
sins  shall  die — cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things 
which,  are  written  in  the  law — he  that  offends  in  one  point  is  guilty 
of  the  whole — the  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell — in  the  day  thou 
rebellest  thou  shalt  surely  die.  These  are  the  tnie  sayings  of  God, 
sentences  which  came  from  the  mouth  of  that  Being  who  can  not 
lie ;  the  veracity  of  the  Almighty  is  therefore  pledged  that  the  sin- 
ner, man,  be  speedily  executed,  without  dela}^ — for,  if  sentence 
against  an  evil  work  be  not  speedily  executed,  the  hearts  of  the  vi- 
cious will  be  fully  set  on  mischief,  and  nothing  but  anarchy  and  con- 
fusion will  be  seen  in  the  empire." 

Justice  then  advanced,  with  piercing  eyes  like  flaming  streams, 
and  burning  tongue  like  the  devouring  fire,  and  made  his  plea,  as 
follows :  "  My  name  may  sound  inharmonious  to  the  guilty,  but  that 
which  is  just  must  be  right,  and  the  least  deviation  therefrom  must 
be  wrong !  I  plead  for  nothing  but  what  is  just.  I  come  not  with 
an  ex  post  facto  law,  to  inflict  a  penalty  which  was  not  known  at  the 
time  the  sin  was  committed,  but  I  come  to  demand  the  life  and  blood 
of  the  rebel  man,  who  sinned  with  eyes  opened — for  guilt  will  always 
stain  the  throne  of  glory  till  vengeance  is  taken  on  the  traitor." 


456  JOHN    LELAND. 

Holiness  then  addressed  the  sovereign  Arbiter  of  life  and  death 
in  the  words  following :  "  My  name  and  nature  forbid  the  continu- 
ance of  the  sinner,  man,  in  the  empire.  He  is  full  of  wounds  and 
bruises,  and  putrifying  sores ;  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole 
of  his  foot  there  is  no  soundness  in  him ;  among  all  his  helpers  there 
is  no  healing  medicine,  and  if  there  was,  yet  he  is  so  stubborn  that 
he  would  not  apply  it.  Therefore,  as  two  can  neither  walk  nor  live 
together  except  they  be  agreed,  either  the  polluted  sinner  or  consum- 
mate holiness  must  quit  the  regions." 

By  this  time  darkness  and  smoke  filled  the  temple,  and  seven 
thunders  uttered  their  voices.  The  flashes  of  vindictive  fire  broke 
out  impatient  from  the  throne,  and  the  angelic  messenger  waved  his 
dread  weapon,  which  high  brandished  shone,  thirsting  for  human 
blood,  while  hell  grew  proud  in  hopes  of  prey,  and  laughed  pro- 
fanely loud.  The  sun  became  black  as  sack-cloth,  and  the  heavens 
were  all  in  angry  convulsion.  The  earth  shook  to  its  center,  and  the 
everlasting  hills  trembled.  Angels  stood  astonished  at  the  awful 
emblems  of  Divine  displeasure,  expecting  each  moment  to  see  the 
rebel  hurled  to  eternal  darkness,  as  they  had  seen  their  fallen  breth- 
ren, Avho  left  their  first  estate  in  a  former  period. 

Omnipotence  appeared  as  the  executioner  of  the  criminal,  clothed 
in  panoply  divine — robed  in  awful  majesty.  Thunders  rolled  before 
him,  the  shafts  of  lightning  darted  through  the  ethereal  vault ;  the 
trumpet  sounded,  the  mountains  skipped  like  rams,  and  the  little  hills 
like  lambs ;  even  Sinai  itself  was  moved  at  the  presence  of  the  Lord. 
At  the  brightness  that  was  before  Him  His  thicks  clouds  passed  hail- 
stones and  coals  of  fire.  In  one  hand  He  had  an  iron  rod  with  which 
He  could  dash  His  enemies  to  pieces  like  a  potter's  vessel,  and  in  the 
other  a  sharp  sword,  with  two  edges.  He  set  one  foot  on  the  sea, 
and  the  other  on  the  earth,  and  lifted  His  hand  to  heaven.  His  face 
was  awfully  majestic,  and  His  voice  as  the  roaring  of  a  lion ;  but 
none  could  learn  from  His  appearance  whether  He  chose  to  strike 
the  vengeful  blow,  or  interest  Himself  in  behalf  of  the  criminal.  At 
length  He  spoke :  "I  am  able  to  destroy  as  I  was  mighty  to  create ; 
nothing  is  too  hard  for  Me  to  do.  All  worlds  were  spoken  into  ex- 
istence by  My  word,  and  all  material  worlds  hang  upon  nothing, 
through  My  power ;  j-et  I  have  no  will,  no  choice  of  My  own.  Let 
all  the  contending  parties  agree,  and  I  am  at  their  command,  all  ac- 
quiescent. The  charges  against  the  criminal,  as  they  now  stand,  call 
for  My  vindictive  stroke,  but  if  any  expedient  shall  be  found  to  over- 
rule the  pleas  which  have  been  made,  when  the  final  result  is  made, 
then  I  shall  act.     Vicious  beings  feel  power  and  forget  right,  but 


THE    JARRINGS    OF    HEAYEN    RECONCILED.  457 

Omnipotence  is  governed  by  right.  The  works  wliicli  I  perform  are 
those  wliich  all  the  perfections  of  Deity,  in  concert,  point  out," 

Wisdom  then  arose,  and  spake  to  the  following  effect :  "  Why  is 
the  decree  so  hasty  from  the  King  ?  The  matter  is  of  the  first  im- 
portance. One  soul  is  worth  more  than  all  the  world.  The  pending 
decision  not  only  aiFects  this  one  criminal,  but  the  millions  and  mil- 
lions of  human  kind.  I,  Wisdom,  dwell  with  prudence,  and  find 
out  knowledge  of  witty  inventions — I  therefore  object  to  the  execu- 
tion of  the  criminal,  not  to  controvert  the  pleas  of  Law,  Truth,  and 
Justice,  but  to  wait  until  it  shall  be  known  whether  man  has  any 
friend  at  court  who  is  wise,  powerful,  and  good  enough  to  relieve 
him,  in  a  way  with  which  Law,  Truth,  and  Justice  will  be  satisfied." 

Love  then  came  forward,  in  all  his  winning  forms;  his  bosom 
swelled  with  philanthropy,  and  his  eye  bespoke  the  benevolence  of 
his  heart.  In  mellifluent  accents  he  began,  "  My  name  is  Love.  No 
one  in  heaven  claims  higher  rank  than  myself,  for  Ood  is  Love,  of 
course  none  deserves  to  be  heard  and  regarded  more  than  I  do.  My 
love  to  man  is  everlasting,  and  neither  death  nor  life,  angels,  princi- 
palities, nor  powers,  things  present,  things  to  come,  nor  any  other 
creature  shall  ever  extinguish  my  love. 

"  '  Mine  is  an  unchanging  love, 
Higher  than  the  heights  above : 
Deeper  than  the  depths  beneath, 
Free  and  faithful,  strong  as  death.' 

Should  the  rebel,  therefore,  be  doomed  to  perdition,  with  all  his 
vast  progeny,  the  cross  of  m}^  love  would  cause  eternal  mourning  in 
heaven ;  to  prevent  which  my  fervent  cry  is,  Let  the  rebel  live." 

Grace  also  appeared  on  the  side  of  the  criminal,  and  made  the 
following  plea:  "If  a  creature  receives  from  a  fellow-creature,  or 
from  his  Grod,  a  compensation  for  any  services  rendered  unto  him,  it 
is  reward  and  not  grace ;  but  if  he  receives  a  favor,  for  which  he 
has  no  claim  on  the  donor,  it  is  grace.  K,  moreover,  a  donor  con- 
fers a  favor,  not  only  on  a  needy  creature,  who  has  no  claim  on 
the  donor,  nor  any  thing  to  buy  with  ;  but  on  one,  who  in  addition 
to  his  need,  has  contracted  guilt,  and  is  an  enemy  to  the  donor,  this 
is  gra'ce  of  a  marvelous  kind.  This  is  my  name,  and  this  is  my 
memorial,  and  shall  be  through  all  ages.  To  do  good  for  evil  is 
godlike.  My  plea,  therefore,  is,  that  all  the  transgressions  of  the 
criminal  may  be  blotted  out — cast  behind  the  back  of  his  God — 
sunk  in  the  midst  of  the  sea,  and  he  himself  raised  to  a  station  far 
more  exalted  than  he  possessed  before  he  sinned.     If  this  should 


458  JOHN    LELAND. 

not  be  the  case,  grace  would  be  a  word  without  meaning,  and  the 
benevolence  of  Jehovah  would  be  obscured  forever.    • 

Mercy,  in  concert  with  Love  and  Grace,  was  all  divine  oratory  in 
favor  of  the  rebel,  and  proceeded :  "I  can  not  claim  the  same  rank 
among  the  attributes  of  Deity,  that  Wisdom,  Power,  Holiness, 
Goodness,  Truth  and  Justice  can,  since  I  am  myself  the  child  of 
Love  ******** 
But  when  innocent  creatures  fall  into  need  and  misery,  the  display 
of  Love  assumes  my  name,  Mercy.  As  I  therefore  have  a  name  in 
heaven,  as  Mercy  is  magnified  above  the  heavens ;  as  Jehovah  is 
rich  in  mercy,  and  is  the  Lord  God  gracious  and  merciful,  I  plead 
for  the  life  of  the  criminal  at  the  bar." 

Here  the  pleas  ended  for  a  season,  and  profound  silence  filled  the 
temple  of  God. 

After  a  solemn  pause,  the  great  I  AM,  the  sovereign  judge,  thus 
spake :  "  The  statements  and  demands  of  Law,  Truth  and  Justice 
against  the  criminal,  are  well  supported.  Love,  Grace  and  Mercy 
have  discovered  abundance  of  goodness  and  good-will  toward  the 
sinner ;  but  they  have  not  shown  how  the  law  can  be  honored. 
Truth  supported,  and  Justice  satisfied,  in  the  forgiveness  of  the 
rebel ;  and  unless  such  an  expedient  can  be  produced,  man  must 
die  without  mercy.  If  any  of  the  celestial  angels,  or  any  being  in 
the  universe  can  suggest  the  expedient,  the  sinner  lives — if  not,  he 
dies." 

He  spake — He  closed — ^but  all  was  whist,  and  silence  reigned  in 
heaven. 

The  elect  angels  knew  how  Love,  through  a  Mediator,  could  con- 
firm innocent  creatures  in  their  innocency,  but  had  no  idea  how 
criminals  coald  be  pardoned. 

At  the  instance  of  Justice,  Omnipotence  arose  like  a  lion  from" 
the  swellings  of  Jordan  ;  made  bare  His  thundering  arm,  high  raised 
His  brandished  sword,  waved  His  iron  rod,  and  advanced  toward 
the  rebel  with  hasty  strides. 

Love  cried.  Forbear,  I  can  not  endure  the  sight ! 

The  Laio  replied.  Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all 
things  written  in  the  law  to  do  them.     The  soul  that  sins,  shall  die  I 

Grace  exclaimed.  Where  sin  hath  abounded,  grace  shall  much 
more  abound ! 

Truth  said.  In  the  day  that  thou  transgressest  thou  shalt  surely 
die! 

Mercy  proclaimed,  Mercy  rejoiceth  against  judgment ! 

Justice,  with  piercing  eye,  and  flaming  tongue,  said,  "  Strike  I 


THE    JARRINGS    OF    HEAVEN    RECONCILED.  459 

strike!  strike  the  rebel  dead!  and  remove  tke  reproach  from  the 
throne  of  heaven !" 

At  this  the  angels  drooped  their  wings,  and  all  the  harps  of 
heaven  played  mournful  odes.  The  flanaing  sword,  to  pierce  the 
criminal,  came  near  his  breast,  and  the  iron  rod,  to  dash  him  to 
pieces  hke  a  potter's  vessel,  was  falling  on  his  head  ;  when  lo !  on  a 
sudden,  the  voice  of  Wisdom  sounded  louder  than  seven  thunders, 
and  made  the  high  arches  of  heaven  to  ring  and  reverberate — 
"  Deliver  him  from  going  down  to  the  pit,  for  I  have  found 
A  ransom!" 

In  that  all-eventful  crisis,  the  eternal  Son  of  God,  in  a  mediato- 
rial form^  appeared,  clothed  with  a  garment  down  to  the  feet,  and 
girt  about  the  paps  with  a  golden  girdle.  Angels  paid  Him  pro- 
found reverence,  and  the  great  I  AM  placed  Him  at  His  right 
hand. 

He  saw  the  ruined,  guilty  man,  and  oh!  amazing  grace!  He 
loved.  With  pity  all  His  inmost  bowels  moved.  He  said,  "  I  was 
set  up  from  everlasting,  my  goings  have  been  of  old,  and  my  delights 
are  with  the  sons  of  men.     The  sinner  shall  live." 

The  Laio^  in  awful  majesty,  replied :  "I  am  holy,  just,  and  good, 
my  injunctions  on  the  rebel  were  perfectly  proper  for  a  human  being, 
and  my  penalty,  which  the  rebel  has  incurred,  is  every  way  propor- 
tionate to  his  crime." 

Mediator. — "  All  you  say  is  true.  I  am  not  come  to  destroy  the 
law,  but  to  fulfill.  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away,  but  not  a  jot 
or  tittle  of  the  law  shall  fail." 

Truth. — "  The  lips  that  never  spoke  amiss,  have  said,  that  the 
wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell.  My  veracity  is  therefore  pledged 
to  see  it  executed." 

Mediator. — "  That  part  of  truth  which  was  proper  to  reveal  unto 
man,  as  a  moral  agent,  has  said  as  you  relate,  with  abundance  more 
to  the  same  effect ;  but  that  part  of  truth  which  the  great  Jehovah, 
my  heavenly  Father,  spake  unto  me,  in  the  covenant  of  peace, 
which  is  made  between  ^s  both,  has  declared,  that,  on  account  of  an 
atonement  which  I  shall  make,  sin  shall  be  pardoned,  and  sinners 
saved." 

Holiness. — "  I  am  so  pure  that  I  can  never  admit  a  sinner  into 
heaven.  Nothing  unclean  or  that  worketh  a  he  shall  ever  enter 
there." 

Mediator. — "  Provision  is  made  in  the  new  covenant,  whereof  I  am 
the  Mediator  and  Messenger,  to  remove  the  pollution  as  well  as  the 
guilt  of  sin.    I  have  guarantied  that  sinners  shall  be  washed  in  my 


460  JOHN    LELAND. 

blood  and  made  clean,  and  come  before  tbe  throne  of  glory  witbout 
spot  or  wrinkle,  or  any  sucb  tbing." 

Justice  cried  out  again,  "  Strike !" 

Mediator. — "  Not  tbe  sinner,  but  the  Surety  T 

Justice. — "  Can  beaven  admit  of  a  vicarious  suffering  ?" 

Mediator. — "  It  is  tbat  of  wbicb  no  government  on  eartb  ever  -will 
admit,  or  ever  ougbt  to  do,  but  is  tbe  singular  article  agreed  upon 
in  tbe  scbeme  of  salvation,  wbicb  will  astonisb  tbe  universe  in  its 
accomplisbment.  In  tbe  fullness  of  time  I  •  sball  be  born  of  a  wo- 
man ;  be  made  under  tbe  law,  and  perfectly  obey  and  magnify  it, 
wbicb  is  all  tbat  tbe  law  in  reason  can  require  of  buman  nature.  I 
sball  suffer  tbat  penalty  for  sinners  wbicb  justice  will  approve, 
and  God  sball  accept ;  sball  die,  and  follow  deatb  to  its  last  recess  ; 
sbaU  rise  again  witb  tbe  same  flesb  and  bones,  and  tbereby  obtain 
tbe  victory  over  deatb.  I  sball  continue  awbile  in  tbe  world  after  I 
rise,  to  give  incontestible  proofs  of  tbe  resurrection ;  and  tben  re- 
ascend  tbe  tbrone  of  glory.         *         *         *         % 

"  Tbe  day  of  days  will  commence ;  tbe  great  day  of  dread,  for 
wbicb  all  otber  days  were  made,  will  arrive ;  on  tbat  day  tbe  dead 
sball  be  raised,  and  tbose  wbo  are  living  on  eartb  sball  be  cbanged 
from  a  mortal  to  an  immortal  state,  and  all  of  tbem  sball  come  to 
judgment  before  My  bar.  Tbose  wbo  are  like  goats  among  sbeep, 
bke  tares  among  wbeat,  wbo  are  unclean  and  polluted,  wbo  are 
lovers  of  transgression  and  baters  of  obedience,  wbo  bave  broken 
tbe  law — wantoned  witb  atoning  blood,  and  done  despite  against  tbe 
work  of  tbe  Holy  Gbost ;  sball  be  banisbed  tbe  kingdom — cast  into 
outer  darkness,  and  gnaw  tbeir  galling  bonds  forever.  But  tbe 
rigbteous  (botb  tbose  wbose  souls  bave  been  in  Paradise,  and  tbeir 
bodies  sleeping  in  tbe  dust,  and  tbose  also  wbo  never  sball  bave 
died)  sball  be  admitted  into  tbe  kingdom  prepared  for  tbem^ — sball 
enter  into  life  eternal. 

"  Now,  if  any  one  in  beaven  bas  augbt  against  tbis  plan,  let  bim 
speak ;  for  I  bave  undertaken  to  reconcile  all  tbings  and  beings  in 
beaven  to  tbe  salvation  of  man." 

lie  closed !  but  O  wbat  rapturous  joy  beamed  fortb  on  every  face 
in  beaven  !  Law,  Trutb,  and  Justice  cried  out,  "  It  is  all  we  want 
or  wisb  for."  Love,  Grace,  and  Mercy  sbouted,  "  It  is  tbe  joy  of 
our  bearts — tbe  deligbt  of  our  eyes,  and  tbe  pleasure  of  our  souls." 
Tbe  great  I  AM  said,  "It  is  finished — ^tbe  expedient  is  found — tbe 
sinner  sball  live — deliver  bim  from  going  down  to  tbe  pit,  for  a  ran- 
som is  found!"  Tbe  angels,  filled  witb  heavenly  pity  and  divine 
concern,  who  had  been  waiting  in  anxious  suspense,  through  tbe 


THE  JARRINGS  OF  HEAVEN  RECONCILED.     461 

important  contest,  now  swept  their  golden  harps,  and  sang  aloud, 
"Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  peace  on  earth  and  good-will  to  man! 
Thou  art  worthy,  0,  Thou  Son  of  God,  to  receive  glorj^,  and  honor, 
and  riches,  and  power,  forever  and  ever !  Man,  though  a  little 
lower  in  nature  than  ourselves,  shall  be  raised  even  higher,  being  in 
likeness  of  nature  more  like  the  Son  of  God.  While  we  shall  be 
ever  adoring  confirming  love  through  a  Mediator,  men  will  be  ex- 
tolling the  riches  of  redeeming  blood  and  the  freeness  of  boundless 
grace." 

The  great  I  AM  then  said  to  the  Mediator,  "Forasmuch  as 
Thou  hast  undertaken  to  reconcile  all  things  in  heaven  and  in  earth 
to  me,  and  hast  proposed  a  plan  of  reconciliation  in  which  all  con- 
tending parties  are  agreed,  in  which  mercy  and  truth  meet  together, 
righteousness  and  peace  kiss  each  other,  justice  and  judgment  sur- 
round My  throne,  and  mercy  and  truth  go  before  My  face — and 
whereas  I  know  that  Thou  will,  at  the  time  appointed,  fulfill  all  Thy 
engagements,  at  the  expense  of  Thy  blood ; — therefore,  behold  I  give 
Thee  a  name  which  is  above  any  name — that  at  the  name  of  Jesus 
every  knee  shall  bow,  and  every  tongue  shall  confess.  Thou  shalt 
have  dominion  from  sea  to  sea,  and  from  the  river  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth.  I  will  divide  Thee  a  portion  with  the  great,  and  Thou  shalt 
divide  the  spoils  with  the  strong.  I  will  give  the  heathen  for  Thine 
inheritance,  and  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  for  Thy  possession, 
and  I  will  glorify  Thee  with  Myself,  with  the  glory  which  Thou 
hadst  before  the  world  began." 


DISCOURSE    SEVENTY-SECOND. 

JONATHAN      MAXCY,    D.D. 

Peesidext  Maxct  was  born  at  Attleborough,  Massachusetts,  Sep- 
tember 2,  1*768,  and  graduated  at  Bx-own  University  in  1787,  with  the 
highest  honors  of  his  class.  He  was  then  appointed  tutor  in  the  col- 
lege ;  which  office  he  filled  ^\ith  much  success  for  four  years.  About 
this  tune  he  united  with  the  first  Baptist  Church  in  Providence.  In 
1790  he  received  hcense  to  preach  from  this  church,  and  the  year  fol- 
lowing resigned  his  tutorship  and  assumed  its  pastoral  charge,  being  or- 
dained September  8,  1791.  On  the  day  of  his  ordination  he  was  elected 
a  Trustee  of  the  college,  and  also  appointed  Professor  of  Divinity.  The 
next  year,  after  the  death  of  President  Manning,  m  1791,  he  was  elected 
to  the  Presidency  of  the  college,  to  meet  which  appointment  he  resigned 
the  charge  of  the  church.  He  was  now  only  twenty-four  years  of  age  ; 
but  the  brilliancy  of  his  talents  had  already  given  him  a  wide  reixitation. 
In  1802  he  was  elected  President  of  Union  College,  where  he  officiated 
two  years;  when,  desu-ing  a  climate  more  congenial  to  his  failing 
health,  he  accej)ted  the  appointment  of  President  of  the  South  Carolina 
College,  which  station  he  filled  for  the  next  sixteen  years ;  or  until  the 
time  of  his  death,  June  4th,  1820. 

Dr.  Maxcy  sustained  the  reputation  of  a  sound  scholar  in  the  various 
branches  of  learning,  both  elegant  and  profound.  He  cultivated  with 
special  enthusiasm  an  acquaintance  vnth  classical  literature,  belles-lettres, 
and  the  fine  arts.  As  a  teacher  he  was  unsurpassed  in  popularity.  But 
the  admirable  proportion  and  harmony  of  his  powers  never  aj^peared  to 
better  advantage  than  in  the  pulpit.  His  conceptions  were  bold  and 
striking,  and  his  style  jDure,  elegant,  and  often  sublime.  The  American 
pulpit  has  had  few  preachers  of  more  enchanting  eloquence.  "  The 
eloquence  of  Maxcy,"  says  one,  "  was  mental ;  you  seemed  to  hear  the 
soul  of  the  man  ;  and  each  one  of  the  largest  assembly,  in  the  most  ex- 
tended place  of  worship,  received  the  slightest  impulse  of  his  silver 
voice  as  if  he  stood  at  his  very  ear.  In  the  most  thronged  audiences 
you  heard  nothing  but  the  preacher  and  the  pulsations  of  your  own 
heart ;  and  his  utterance  was  not  more  perfect  than  his  whole  discourse 
was  instructive  and  enchanting." 


BELIEF    IN    THE    DIVINE    EXISTENCE.  4^3 

The  literary  remains  of  President  Maxcy  consist  of  fifteen  sermons, 
five  addresses,  and  three  orations,  published  with  a  Memoir  in  one  volume, 
octavo.  One  of  his  most  celebrated  productions  is  the  short  discourse 
here  given.  It  was  delivered  at  Providence,  in  1795,  and  produced  a 
striking  effect.  The  train  of  thought  is  luminous  and  philosojihical,  and 
is  marked  by  sublime  sentiments  and  beautiful  imagery,  embodied  in 
classical  and  forcible  language. 


A  PEACTICAL  BELIEF  IN  THE  DIYmE  EXISTENCE. 

"  For  the  invisible  things  of  Him,  from  the  creation  of  the  world,  are  clearly  seen, 
being  understood  by  the  things  that  are  made,  even  His  eternal  power  and  Godhead." — 
Romans,  i.  20. 

Nothing  will  more  effectually  guard  us  against  vice  than  a  firm 
belief  of  the  existence  of  God.  For  snrely  if  we  realize  that  there 
is  such  a  Being,  we  shall  naturally  infer  from  His  j)erfections,  from 
the  nature  of  His  moral  government,  and  from  our  situation  as  ra- 
tional creatures,  that  we  are  amenable  at  His  awful  tribunal.  Supe- 
rior power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  always  lay  us  under  restraint  and 
command  our  veneration.  These,  even  in  a  mortal,  overawe  us. 
They  restrain,  not  only  the  actions,  but  the  words  and  thoughts  of 
the  most  vicious  and  abandoned.  Our  happiness  depenjls  on  our 
virtue.  Our  virtue  depends  on  the  conformity  of  our  heart  and  con- 
duct to  the  laws  prescribed  us  by  our  beneficent  Creator. 

Of  what  vast  importance,  then,  is  it  to  our  present  as  well  as 
future  felicity  to  possess  m  our  hearts  a  feeling  sense,  and  in  our 
understandings  a  clear  conviction,  of  the  existence  of  that  Being 
whose  power  and  goodness  are  unbounded,  whose  presence  fills  im- 
mensity, and  whose  wisdom,  like  a  torrent  of  lightning,  emanates 
through  all  the  dark  recesses  of  eternal  duration !  How  great  must 
be  the  effect  of  a  sense  of  the  presence  of  the  great  Creator  and 
Governor  of  all  things,  to  whom  belong  the  attributes,  eternity,  in- 
dependency, perfect  holiness,  inflexible  justice,  and  inviolable  verac- 
ity ;  complete  happiness  and  glorious  majesty ;  supreme  right,  and 
unbounded  dominion  !  A  sense  of  accountability  to  God  will  retard 
the  eager  pursuit  of  vice  ;  it  will  humble  the  heart  of  the  proud  ;  it 
will  bridle  the  tongue  of  the  profane,  and  snatch  the  knife  from  the 
hand  of  the  assassin. 

A  belief  of  the  existence  of  God  is  the  true  original  source  of  all 
virtue,  and  the  only  foundation  of  aU  religion,  natural  or  revealed. 


464  JONATHAN    MAXCY. 

Set  aside  this  great  luminous  truth,  erase  tlie  conviction  of  it  from 
the  heart :  you  then  place  virtue  and  vice  on  the  same  level ;  you 
drive  afflicted  innocence  into  despair ;  you  add  new  effrontery  to  the 
marred  visage  of  guilt ;  you  plant  thorns  in  the  patli  and  shed  an 
impenetrable  gloom  over  the  prospects  of  the  righteous.  Sin  has 
alienated  the  affections  and  diverted  the  attention  of  men  from  the 
great  Jehovah.  "  Darkness  has  covered  the  earth,  and  gross  dark- 
ness the  people."  Men  have  worshiped  the  works  of  their  own 
hands,  and  neglected  the  true  God,  though  His  existence  and  perfec- 
tions were  stamped  in  glaring  characters  on  all  creation.  From  the 
regularity,  order,  beauty,  and  conservation  of  this  great  system  of 
things,  of  which  man  makes  a  part ;  from  the  uniform  tendency  of 
all  its  divisions  to  their  proper  ends,  the  existence  of  God  shines  as 
clearly  as  the  sun  in  the  heavens.  "  From  the  things  that  are  made," 
says  the  text,  "  are  seen  his  eternal  power  and  Godhead." 

I.  Man  himself  is  a  proof  of  God's  existence.  Let  us  place  Him 
before  us  in  His  full  stature.  We  are  at  once  impressed  with  the 
beautiful  organization  of  His  body,  with  the  orderly  and  harmonious 
arrangement  of  His  members.  Such  is  the  disposition  of  these,  that 
their  motion  is  the  most  easy,  graceful,  and  useful  than  can  be  con- 
ceived. We  are  astonished  to  see  the  same  simple  matter  diversified 
into  so  many  different  substances,  of  different  qualities,  size,  and  fig- 
ure. K  we  pursue  our  researches  through  the  internal  economy, 
we  shall  find  that  all  the  different  parts  correspond  to  each  other 
with  the  utmost  exactness  and  order ;  that  they  all  answer  the  most 
beneficent  purposes.  This  wonderful  machine,  the  human  body  is 
animated,  cherished,  and  preserved,  by  a  spirit  within,  which  per- 
vades every  particle,  feels  in  every  organ,  warns  us  of  injury,  and 
administers  to  our  pleasures.  Erect  in  stature,  man  differs  from  all 
other  animals.  Though  his  foot  is  confined  to  the  earth,  yet  his  eye 
measures  the  whole  circuit  of  heaven,  and  in  an  instant  takes  in 
thousands'  of  worlds.  His  countenance  is  turned  upward,  to  teach 
us  that  He  is  not  like  the  other  animals,  limited  to  the  earth,  but 
looks  forward  to  brighter  scenes  of  existence  in  the  skies. 

Whence  came  this  erect,  orderly,  beautiful  constitution  of  the 
human  body  ?  Did  it  spring  up  from  the  earth  self-formed  ?  Surely 
not.  Earth  itself  is  inactive  matter.  That  which  has  no  motion 
can  never  produce  any.  Man  surely  could  not,  as  has  been  vainly 
and  idly  supposed,  have  been  formed  by  the  fortuitous  concurrence 
of  atoms.  We  behold  the  most  exact  order  in  the  constitution  of 
the  human  body.  Order  always  involves  design.  Design  always 
involves  intelligence.     That  intelligence  which  directed  the  orderly 


BELIEF    IN    THE    DIVINE    EXISTENCE.  465 

formation  of  the  human  bodj,  must  have  resided  in  a  Being  whose 
power  was  adequate  to  the  production  of  such  an  effect.  Creation 
surely  is  the  prerogative  of  a  self-existent,  uncaused  Being.  Finite 
creatures  may  arrange  and  dispose,  but  they  can  not  create ;  they 
can  not  give  life.  It  is  a  universal  law  through  all  nature  that  like 
produces  like.  The  same  laws  most  j^robably  obtain  through  the 
whole  system  with  which  we  are  connected.  "We  have,  therefore, 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  angels  created  man. 

Neither  can  we,  without  the  greatest  absurdity,  admit  that  he  was 
formed  by  himself,  or  by  mere  accident.  If  in  the  latter  way,  why 
do  we  never  see  men  formed  so  in  the  present  day  ?  Why  do  we 
never  see  the  clods  of  earth  brightening  into  human  flesh,  and  the 
dust  under  our  feet  crawling  into  animated  forms,  and  starting  up 
into  life  and  intelligence  ?  If  we  even  admit  that  either  of  the  fore- 
mentioned  causes  might  have  produced  man,  yet  neither  of  them 
could  have  preserved  him  in  existence  one  moment.  There  must, 
therefore,  be  a  God  uncaused,  independent  and  complete.  The 
nobler  part  of  man  clearly  evinces  this  great  truth.  When  we  con- 
sider the  boundless  desires  and  the  inconceivable  activity  of  the  soul 
of  man,  we  can  refer  his  origin  to  nothing  but  God.  How  astonish- 
ing are  the  reasoning  faculties  of  man!  How  surprising  the  power 
of  comparing,  arranging,  and  connecting  his  ideas !  How  wonder- 
ful is  the  power  of  imagination  !  On  its  wings,  in  a  moment,  we  can 
transport  ourselves  to  the  most  distant  part  of  the  universe.  We 
can  fly  back,  and  live  the  lives  of  all  antiquitj^,  or  surmount  the 
limits  of  time  and  sail  along  the  vast  range  of  eternity.  Whence 
these  astonishing  powers,  if  not  from  a  God  of  infinite  wisdom,  good- 
ness, and  power? 

2.  "  The  invisible  things  of  Him  from  the  creation  of  the  world," 
says  the  text,  "are  clearlj^  seen."  Let  us  for  a  moment  behold  our 
earth.  With  what  a  delightful  scene  are  we  here  presented !  The 
diversification  of  its  surface  into  land  and  water,  islands  and  lakes, 
springs  and  rivers,  hills  and  valleys,  mountains  and  plains,  renders  it 
to  man  doubly  enchanting.  We  are  entertained  with  an  agreeable 
variety,  without  being  disgusted  by  a  tedious  uniformity. 

Every  thing  appears  admirably  formed  for  our  profit  and  de- 
light. There  the  valleys  are  clothed  in  smiling  green,  and  the  plains 
are  bending  with  corn.  Here  is  the  gentle  hill  to  delight  the  eye, 
and  beyond,  slow  rising  from  the  earth,  swells  the  huge  mountain, 
and  with  all  its  loads  of  waters,  rocks,  and  woods,  heaves  itself  up 
into  the  skies.  Why  this  pleasing,  vast  deformity  of  nature  ?  Un- 
doubtedly for  the  benefit  of  man.     From  the  mountains  descend 

30 


466  JONATHAN    MAXCT. 

streams  to  fertilize  tlie  plains  below,  and  cover  them  witli  wealtli 
and  beauty.  Tbe  earth  not  only  produces  every  thing  necessary  to 
support  our  bodies,  but  to  remedy  our  diseases,  and  gratify  our 
senses.  Who  covered  the  earth  with  such  a  pleasing  variety  of 
fruits  and  flowers?  Who  gave  them  their  delightful  fragrance,  and 
painted  them  with  such  exquisite  colors?  Who  causes  the  same 
water  to  whiten  in  the  lily,  that  blushes  in  the  rose  ?  Do  not  these 
things  indicate  a  Cause  infinitely  superior  to  any  finite  being  ?  Do 
they  not  directly  lead  us  to  believe  the  existence  of  God,  to  admire 
His  goodness,  to  revere  His  power,  to  adore  His  wisdom,  in  so  hap- 
pily accommodating  our  external  circumstances  to  our  situation  and 
internal  constitution? 

8.  But  how  are  we  astonished  to  behold  the  vast  ocean,  rolling 
its  immense  burden  of  waters  !  Who  gave  it  such  a  configuration 
of  particles  as  to  render  it  movable  by  the  least  pressure,  and  at 
the  same  so  strong  as  to  support  the  heavier  weights  ?  Who  spread 
out  this  vast  highway  of  all  nations  under  heaven  ?  Who  gave  it 
its  regular  motion  ?  Who  confined  it  within  its  bounds  ?  A  little 
more  motion  would  disorder  the  whole  world  !  A  small  incitement 
on  the  tide  would  drown  whole  kingdoms.  Who  restrains  the  proud 
waves  when  the  tempest  lifts  them  to  the  clouds  ?  Who  measured 
the  great  waters,  and  subjected  them  to  invariable  laws?  That  great 
Being,  "  who  placed  the  sand  for  the  bound  thereof  by  a  perpetual 
decree  that  it  can  not  pass ;  and  though  the  waves  thereof  toss  them- 
selves, yet  can  they  not  jjrevail ;  though  they  roar,  yet  can  they  not 
pass  over."  AVith  reason  may  we  believe  that  from  the  things  that 
are  made,  are  clearly  seen  eternal  power  and  wisdom. 

4.  Passing  by  the  numerous  productions  and  appendages  of  the 
earth,  let  us  rise  from  it,  and  consider  the  body  of  air  with  which  we 
are  surrounded.  What  a  convincing  proof  do  we  here  find  of  the 
existence  of  God  ?  Such  is  the  subtlety  and  transparency  of  the  air, 
that  it  receives  the  rays  of  the  sun  and  stars,  conveying  them  with 
inconceivable  velocity  to  objects  on  the  earth,  rendering  them  visi- 
ble, and  decorating  the  whole  surface  of  the  globe  with  an  agreeable 
intermixture  of  light,  shade,  and  colors.  But  still  this  air  has  a  suf- 
ficient consistency  and  strength  to  support  clouds,  and  all  the  winged 
inhabitants.  Had  it  been  less  subtile  it  would  have  intercepted  the 
light.  Had  it  been  more  rarified  it  would  not  have  supported  its  in- 
habitants, nor  have  afforded  sufiicient  moisture  for  the  purposes  of 
respiration.  What  then  but  infinite  wisdom  could  have  tempered 
the  air  so  nicely  as  to  give  it  sufficient  strength  to  support  clouds  for 
rain,  to  afford  wind  for  health,  and  at  the  same  time  to  possess  the 


BELIEF    IN    THE    DIVINE    EXISTENCE.  457 

power  of  conveying  sound  and  light?  How  wonderful  is  this  ele- 
ment !  How  clearly  does  it  discover  infinite  wisdom,  power,  and 
goodness ! 

5.  But  when  we  cast  our  eyes  up  to  the  firmament  of  heaven  we 
clearly  see  that  it  declares  God's  handiwork.  Here  the  immense 
theater  of  God's  works  opens  upon  us,  and  discloses  ten  thousand 
magnificent,  splendid  objects.  We  dwindle  to  nothing  in  compari- 
son of  this  august  scene  of  beauty,  majesty,  and  glory.  "Who  reared 
this  vast  arch  over  our  heads  ?  Who  adorned  it  with  so  many  shin- 
ing objects,  placed  at  such  immense  distances  from  each  other,  regu- 
lar in  their  motions,  invariably  observing  the  laws  to  which  they 
were  originally  subjected  ?  Who  places  the  sun  at  such  a  conve- 
nient distance  as  not  to  anno}'',  but  to  refresh  us  ?  Who  for  so  many 
ages  has  caused  him  to  rise  and  set  at  fixed  times  ?  Whose  hand 
directs,  and  whose  power  restrains  him  in  his  course,  causing  him  to 
produce  the  agreeable  changes  of  day  and  night,  as  well  as  the  vari- 
ety of  seasons  ?  The  order,  harmony,  and  regularity  in  the  revo- 
lutions of  the  heavenly  bodies  are  such  incontestible  proofs  of  the 
existence  of  God,  that  an  eminent  poet  well  said  "  an  undevout  as- 
tronomer is  mad."  In  the  time  of  Cicero,  when  the  knowledge  of 
astronomy  was  very  imperfect,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  declare,  that  in 
his  opinion,  the  man  who  asserted  the  heavenly  bodies  were  not 
framed  and  moved  by  a  Divine  understanding,  was  himself  void  of 
all  understanding.  Well  indeed  is  it  said  that  the  heavens  declare 
the  glory  of  God. 

This  great  Being  is  every  where  present.  He  exists  all  around 
us.  He  is  not,  as  we  are  apt  to  imagine,  at  a  great  distance.  Wher- 
ever we  turn,  His  image  meets  our  view.  We  see  Him  in  the  earth, 
in  the  ocean,  in  the  air,  in  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars.  .  We  feel  Him 
in  ourselves.  He  is  always  working  round  us ;  He  performs  the 
greatest  operations,  produces  the  noblest  effects,  discovers  Himself  in 
a  thousand  different  ways,  and  yet  the  real  GoD  remains  unseen.  All 
parts  of  creation  are  equally  under  His  inspection.  Though  He 
warms  the  breast  of  the  highest  angel  in  heaven,  yet  He  breathes  life  . 
into  the  meanest  insect  on  earth.  He  lives  through  all  His  works, 
supporting  all  by  the  word  of  His  power.  He  shines  in  the  verdure 
that  clothes  the  plains,  in  the  lily  that  delights  the  vale,  and  in  the 
forest  that  waves  on  the  mountains.  He  supports  the  slender  reed 
that  trembles  in  the  breeze,  and  the  sturdy  oak  that  defies  the  tem- 
pest.    His  presence  cheers  the  inanimate  creation. 

Far  in  the  wilderness,  where  human  eye  never  saw,  where  the 
savage  foot  never  trod,  there  He  bids  the  blooming  forest  smile,  and 


468  JONATHAN    MAXCY. 

tlie  blushing  rose  opens  its  leaves  to  the  morning  sun.  There  He 
causes  the  feathered  inhabitants  to  whistle  their  wild  notes  to  the 
listening  trees  and  echoing  mountains.  There  nature  lives  in  all  her 
wanton  wildness.  There  the  ravished  eye,  hurrying  from  scene  to 
scene,  is  lost  in  one  vast  blush  of  beauty.  From  the  dark  stream 
that  rolls  through  the  forest  the  silver-scaled  fish  spring  up,  and 
dumbly  mean  the  praise  of  God.  Though  man  remain  silent,  yet 
God  will  have  praise.  He  regards,  observes,  upholds,  connects,  and 
equals  all. 

The  belief  of  His  existence  is  not  a  point  of  mere  speculation  and 
amusement.  It  is  of  inconceivable  importance  to  our  present  as 
well  as  future  felicity.  But  while  we  believe  there  is  a  God,  we 
should  be  extremely  careful  to  ascertain,  with  as  much  accuracy  as 
possible,  what  is  His  real  nature.  The  most  prominent  features  of 
this  are  exhibited  in  that  incomprehensible  display  of  wisdom,  power, 
and  goodness  made  in  the  works  of  creation.  A  virtuous  man 
stands  in  a  relation  to  God  which  is  peculiarly  delightful.  The  Di- 
vine perfections  are  all  engaged  in  his  defense.  He  feels  powerful 
in  God's  power,  wise  in  His  wisdom,  good  in  His  goodness.  The 
vicious  man,  on  the  contrary,  stands  in  a  relation  to  God  which  is  of 
all  things  the  most  dreadful.  He  is  unwilling  to  know  that  God  has 
suf&cient  wisdom  to  search  out  all  his  wickedness,  safiicient  goodness 
to  the  universe  to  determine  to  punish  that  wickedness,  and  sufiicient 
power  to  execute  that  determination.  A  firm  belief  in  the  existence 
of  God  will  heighten  all  the  enjoyments  of  life,  and  by  conforming 
our  hearts  to  His  will,  will  secure  the  apj)robation  of  a  good  con- 
science, and  inspire  us  with  the  hope  of  a  blessed  immortality. 

Never  be  tempted  to  disbelieve  the  existence  of  God,  when  every 
thing  around  you  proclaims  it  in  a  language  too  plain  not  to  be  un- 
derstood. Never  cast  your  eyes  on  creation  without  having  your 
souls  expanded  with  this  sentiment,  "  There  is  a  God !"  "When  you 
survey  this  globe  of  earth,  with  all  its  appendages — when  you  behold 
it  inhabited  by  numberless  ranks  of  creatures,  all  moving  in  their 
proper  spheres,  all  verging  to  their  proper  ends,  all  animated  by  the 
same  great  source  of  life,  all  supported  at  the  same  great  bounteous 
table ;  when  you  behold  not  only  the  earth,  but  the  ocean  and  the 
air,  swarming  with  living  creatures,  all  happy  in  their  situation — 
when  you  behold  yonder  sun  darting  a  vast  blaze  of  glory  over  the 
heavens,  garnishing  mighty  worlds,  and  waking  ten  thousand  songs 
of  praise — when  you  behold  unnumbered  systems  diffused  through 
vast  immensity,  clothed  in  splendor,  and  rolling  in  majesty — when 
you  behold  these  things,  your  affections  will  rise  above  all  the  vani- 


BELIEF    IN    THE    DIVINE    EXISTENCE.  459 

ties  of  time,  your  full  souls  will  struggle  witli  ecstasy,  and  your  rea- 
son, passions,  and  feelings,  all  united,  will  rusli  up  to  tlie  skies,  with, 
a  devout  acknowledgment  of  the  wisdom,  existence,  power,  and 
goodness  of  God.  Let  us  beliold  Him,  let  us  wonder,  praise,  adore. 
These  things  will  make  us  happy.  They  will  wean  us  from  vice, 
and  attach  us  to  virtue. 

As  a  belief  of  the  existence  of  God  is  a  fundamental  point  of  sal- 
vation, he  who  denies  it  runs  the  greatest  conceivable  hazard.  He 
resigns  the  satisfaction  of  a  good  conscience,  quits  the  hope  of  a 
happy  immortality,  and  exposes  himself  to  destruction.  All  this 
for  what  ?  for  the  short-lived  pleasure  of  a  riotous,  dissolute  life. 
How  wretched  when  he  finds  his  atheistical  confidence  totally  de- 
stroyed. Instead  of  His  beloved  sleep  and  insensibility,  with  which 
he  so  fondly  flattered  himself,  he  will  find  himself  still  existing  after 
death,  removed  to  a  strange  place  ;  he  will  then  find  there  is  a  God, 
who  will  not  suffer  his  rational  beings  to  fall  into  annihilation  as  a 
refuge  from  the  just  punishment  of  their  crimes ;  he  will  find  him- 
self doomed  to  drag  on  a  wretched  train  of  existence  in  unavailing 
woe  and  lamentation.  Alas !  how  astonished  will  he  be  to  find  him- 
self plunged  into  the  abyss  of  ruin  and  desperation  !  God  forbid 
that  an}^  of  us  should  act  so  unwisely  as  to  disbelieve,  when  ever}^ 
thing  around  us  proclaims  His  existence ! 


DISCOURSE    SEVENTY. THIRD. 

EDWARD    D.    GRIFFIN,    D.  D. 

The  eloquent  and  gifted  Griffin  was  born  at  East  Haddam,  Conn,,  in 
January,  1770.  He  graduated  at  Yale  College  at  the  age  of  twenty,  and 
received  his  theological  education  at  New  Haven.  In  1795  he  was  or- 
dained pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church,  at  New  Hartford,  Conn, 
Kesignmg  his  charge  in  this  place  in  the  year  1801,  he  became  Colleague 
Pastor  with  Dr.  M'Whorter  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church,  Newark, 
N.  J.  After  an  eminently  successful  ministry  of  nearly  eight  years  at 
Newark,  he  accepted  the  appointment  of  Professor  of  Sacred  Phetoiic 
in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  Mass,,  and  was  inaugurated  in 
June,  1809.  A  httle  more  than  two  years  from  this  time,  he  removed  to 
Boston,  and  became  pastor  of  the  Park  street  Church.  In  1815  he  re- 
turned to  Newark,  and  was  installed  over  the  Second  Presbyterian 
Church  in  that  city.  After  serving  this  people  for  seven  years,  he  came 
to  the  Presidency  of  Williams  CoUege,  the  duties  of  which  office  he  per- 
formed with  great  acceptance  and  usefulness  for  the  next  fifteen  years. 
Advancing  age  and  feebleness  of  health  led  him  to  resign  this  honorable 
post  in  1836 ;  and  on  the  8th  of  November,  1837,  he  ceased  from  his 
labors,  in  the  sixty-eighth  year  of  his  age. 

Dr.  Griffin  exerted  a  T^dde  influence  in  each  of  the  responsible  posi- 
tions which  he  held.  He  took  an  active  part  in  the  incipient  movements 
of  the  great  missionary  enterprise  in  this  country,  which  owes  much  of 
its  success,  under  God,  to  his  efficient  labors  and  eloquent  appeals.  As 
a  promoter  of  revivals  of  religion,  his  services  were  not  less  important. 
It  has  been  said  of  him  that  the  history  of  his  life  seems  little  less  than 
the  history  of  one  unbroken  revival ;  and  that  it  would  be  difficult  to 
find  the  individual  in  our  country,  since  the  days  of  Whitfield,  who  has 
been  the  instrument  of  an  equal  number  of  conversions. 

In  the  education  of  young  men  for  the  sacred  office  of  the  ministry, 
his  influence  was  also  very  great.  But  Dr.  Griffin  was  most  celebrated 
for  his  surj^assmg  powers  of  pulpit  oratoiy.  Noble  and  dignified  in  his 
form  and  bearmg,  with  an  eye  full  of  fire,  a  countenance  beaming  with 
light,  and  a  voice  capable  of  breathing  forth   the  softest  and  gentlest 


THE    KINGDOM    OF    CHRIST.  471 

emotions,  or  swelling  into  the  majesty  of  thunder-like  tones,  he  held  the 
complete  command  of  his  audiences ;  now  commg  down  upon  them  to 
break  and  to  crush  with  the  fury  of  the  tempest ;  and  now  bearing  them 
on  sweet  and  transporting  accents  to  the  very  gate  of  heaven. 

Dr.  Griffin's  jiower  was  to  a  great  extent  attributable  to  his  manner ; 
but  his  sermons,  though  not  of  uniform  value,  are  yet  for  clearness  of 
thought,  directness  of  point,  pathos  and  appeal,  among  the  best  speci- 
mens in  the  language.  They  are  valuable  as  revival  sermons.  Most  of 
them  were  WTitten  with  great  care,  the  author  often  re-writing  and  cut- 
ting out  every  thing  superfluous.  We  have  met  with  a  brief  plan  of  Dr. 
Griffin's  in  ^vTiting  his  sermons,  which  is  worthy  of  attention,  and  helps 
to  explain  his  success.  It  is  as  follows :  1.  Write  down  the  text  on  a 
loose  piece  of  paper  and  looh  at  it.  2.  Inquire  what  does  it  teach  ? 
What  shall  he  my  object  ?  Obtain  a  clear  and  definite  view  oi  the  point. 
3.  Then  commence  thinJcing.  Put  down  thoughts,  as  they  occur,  with- 
out regard  to  order  or  language — get  as  much  material  as  possible.  4. 
Then  reduce  these  thoughts  to  order.  This  thought  belongs  under  this 
head ;  that  idea  should  come  m  there,  etc.  5.  Throw  out  all  extraneous 
and  foreign  ideas.  Many  of  Dr.  Griffin's  sermons  were  pubHshed  in 
1839,  with  an  excellent  memoir  by  Rev.  W.  B.  Sprage,  D.D.  Of  late, 
some  sixty  more  of  his  sermons  have  been  published  in  a  single  volume. 
Tha^  which  is  here  given  is  not  found  in  any  collection  of  his  discourses, 
but  it  has  been  pronounced  by  a  distinguished  Professor  of  Sacred  Rhet- 
oric, as  well  as  by  others,  the  best  discourse  which  Di-.  Griffin  ever  wrote. 
It  sparkles,  ever  and  anon,  with  beautiful  pictures,  and  contains  passages, 
particularly  toward  the  close,  which,  for  grandeur  and  sublunity,  are  con- 
fessedly among  the  most  splendid  effiarts  of  hmnan  genius.  It  was 
preached  before  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  in 
Philadelphia,  1 805,  and  published  by  request  of  that  body. 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  CHRIST. 

"For  by  Him  were  all  things  created  that  are  in  heaven,  and  that  are  in  earth,  visi- 
ble, and  invisible,  whether  they  be  thrones,  or  dominions,  or  principalities,  or  powers ;  all 
things  were  created  by  Him,  and  for  Him." — Colossians,  i.  16. 

While  worldly  minds  are  confined  to  a  few  surrounding  objects, 
unconscious  of  the  great  scenes  above  tliem,  like  men  in  a  cavern 
who  have  never  beheld  the  glories  of  nature ;  the  devout  Christian 
delights  to  raise  his  eyes,  and  contemplate  the  perfections  of  his 
Creator,  He  feels  a  noble  and  inextinguishable  ardor  to  ascend  in 
meditation  to  everlasting  things,  to  lose  sight  of  earth  in  his  sub- 


472  EDWARD    D.   GRIFFIN 

lime  excursions,  to  tread  the  pavements  of  heaven,  to  take  a  near 
view  of  God,  from  that  exalted  summit  to  look  abroad  among  his 
Father's  works.  The  ipoint  to  which  his  thoughts  aspire,  the  highest 
that  a  created  mind  can  reach,  is  that  from  whence  he  may  view  the 
amazing  purposes  which  God  is  carrying  into  execution,  and  by  this 
means  discover  the  moral  character  of  their  Author,  and  the  tend- 
ency of  all  things.  On  this  eminence  stood  the  great  apostle  of 
the  Gentiles,  when  he  pronounced  the  words  of  our  text.  Let  us 
accompany  him  to  that  commanding  height ;  and  while  we  view, 
may  the  Divine  Spirit  clear  the  film  from  our  mental  sight,  that  we 
may  gaze  with  amazement,  adoration,  and  love. 

Placing  ourselves  at  the  beginning  of  time,  and  looking  back 
into  eternity,  we  are  anxious  to  know  what  induced  the  ever  blessed 
God  to  exercise  His  power  in  the  production  of  creatures,  and  what 
valuable  object  He  proposed  to  accomplish  by  all  His  works.  In 
order  to  a  right  solution  of  these  points,  we  must  conceive  an  eternal 
propensity  in  the  fountain  of  love  to  overflow,  and  fill  with  happi- 
ness numberless  vessels  fitted  to  receive  it.  We  must  conceive  an 
eternal  propensity  in  God  to  manifest  the  richness  and  perfection  of 
His  nature  to  creatures ;  not  for  the  sake  of  ostentatious  display,  but 
to  enrich  the  universe  with  the  knowledge  of  His  glory,  and  to  lay 
a  foundation  for  general  confidence  and  delight  in  Him,  A  state  of 
unproductive  repose  was  not  a  condition  becoming  Himself  As  the 
sun  exists  in  his  proper  and  most  glorious  state  when  shedding  his 
beams  to  bless  the  dependent  planets,  so  God  is  conceived  to  exist 
in  His  proper  and  most  glorious  state  when  He  is  benevolently  exer- 
cising His  perfections  on  the  created  system,  and,  so  to  speak,  hangs 
them  around  Him  like  an  external  robe  of  light,  to  awaken  the  won- 
der and  joy  of  creatures.  The  stupendous  object  which  He  contem- 
plated was  an  immense  and  beautifully  adjusted  kingdom  of  holy 
and  happy  creatures,  in  which  He  should  be  acknowledged  as  the 
glorious  Head,  and  they  should  take  their  proper  place  at  His  feet ; 
in  which  He  should  be  felt  as  the  center  of  attraction  to  draw  all  its 
parts  into  union  with  Himself,  and  as  a  sun  to  shed  blessed  influence 
upon  the  whole;  and  over  which,  when  its  prosperity  should  be 
completed.  He  might  "rejoice  with  joy,  and  rest  in  His  love." 

This  was  the  glorious  end  which  His  goodness  eternally  pro- 
posed ;  and  now  we  are  to  view  the  means  which  He  ordained  for  its 
accomplishment.  The  principal  means  adopted  was  the  appoint- 
ment of  His  Son  to  act  as  His  vicegerent  in  the  creation  and  gov- 
ernment of  all  worlds,  to  assume  a  created  nature  into  personal 
union  with  Himself,  and  thus  to  fill  up  the  infinite  chasm  between 


THE    KINGDOM    OF    CHRIST.  473 

God  and  His  creation,  and  be  the  grand  connecting  bond  between 
finite  and  infinite  natures.  As  bead  of  His  Father's  kingdom,  to 
wbicb  He  was  to  be  closely  united  by  His  as  imed  nature,  and  as 
the  medium  of  all  intercourse  between  that  kingdom  and  His  Father, 
He  was  to  form  the  most  perfect  union  between  God  and  His  crea- 
tures. "  As  Thou,  Father,  art  in  Me,  and  I  in  Thee,  that  they  also 
may  be  one  in  us ;  I  in  them,  and  Thou  in  Me,  that  they  may  be 
made  perfect  in  one."  Put  forward  into  a  public  station,  as  His 
Father's  organ  and  image,  to  be  seen  by  every  eye.  He  was  to  'bring 
out  the  invisible  God  to  view  from  the  hidden  recesses  of  His  na- 
ture— to  bring  down  the  incomprehensible  God  within  the  reach  of' 
finite  apprehensions,  and  to  serve  as  a  mild  glass  through  which 
creatures  might  view  the  splendors  of  divine  perfection  without 
dazzling  and  paining  their  sight. 

This  is  the  Christ,  the  anointed  Agent,  of  whom  our  text  de- 
clares, "  By  Him  were  all  things  created  that  are  in  heaven,  and  that 
are  in  earth,  visible  and  invisible,  whether  they  be  thrones,  or  do- 
minions, or  principalities,  or  powers ;  all  things  were  created  by 
Him,  and /or  Him!'''  This  is  not  said  of  Him  simply  as  God,  but  as 
the  Christy  who  fills  a  middle  place  between  God  and  man,  and  par- 
takes of  both  natures.  The  character  intended  is  pointedly  marked 
in  the  context,  every  part  of  which  applies  only  to  Christ.  The 
apostle  is  treating  of  the  Messiah,  and  describes  Him  as  "  the  image 
of  the  invisible  God,  the  first-born  of  every  creature,  the  head  of 
the  body,  the  Church,  the  first-born  from  the  dead,  in  whom  we  have 
redemption  through  His  blood ;"  all  of  which  can  be  understood  of 
Him  only  as  Mediator,  and  not  merely  as  second  person  of  the  Trin- 
ity. Can  we  then  acquit  the  apostle  of  the  charge  of  introducing  a 
strange  confusion  of  characters;  unless  our  text  be  allowed  to  assert 
that  all  things  were  created  by  the  Messiah,  and  for  the  Messiah  ? 

The  truth  I  take  to  be  this  :  All  the  works  which  God  designed 
to  produce  throughout  the  universe.  He  delegated  Christ  to  accom- 
plish. All  the  displays  of  God  which  were  ever  intended  to  be 
made  to  creatures,  Christ  was  appointed  to  make.  The  vast  plan 
which  involved  the  whole  creation,  and  all  the  measures  of  divine 
government,  was  one  plan ;  the  execution  of  which  in  all  its  parts, 
was  committed  to  Christ.  It  is  elsewhere  said  that  all  things  were 
made  "  for  God,"  that  is,  for  the  display  of  His  perfections,  and  for 
the  promotion  of  that  general  interest  of  His  kingdom  which  He 
benevolently  considers  His  own.  In  perfect  consistency  'ith  this, 
all  things  are  here  said  to  be  made  for  Christ,  that  is,  for  the  illustra- 
tion of  His  mediatorial  glory  (not  indeed  as  the  ultimate  and  chief 


474  EDWARD    D.   GRIFFIN. 

end,  but  ratlaer  as  the  principal  mode  in  whicli  the  glory  of  God  was 
to  be  displayed)  and  to  subserve  the  vast  plan  which  He  was  ap- 
pointed to  execute,  in  the  issue  of  which  God  will  be  "  all  in  all." 
It  would  seem,  then,  that  it  was  in  the  character  of  Messiah  that  He 
created  the  angels,  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  and  all  other  things, 
visible  and  invisible  ;  and  that  He  created  them  all  for  Himself  as 
Mediator ;  in  a  word,  that  He  created  all  worlds  to  subserve  His 
mediatorial  plan,  the  principal  scene  of  which,  it  is  well  known,  was 
laid  upon  this  earth.  The  same  apostle,  in  another  place,  declares 
that  God  "  created  all  things  by  Jesus  Christ" — and  why  ? — "  to  the 
intent  that  now  unto  the  principalities  and  powers  in  heavenly  places 
might  be  known  hy  the  Church  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God."  In  one 
of  his  addresses  to  the  Christian  Church  the  apostle  exjDressly  asserts, 
"  all  things  are  for  your  sakes." 

Does  it  seem  incredible  that  all  other  worlds  should  be  created  to 
promote  the  purposes  of  grace  upon  this  earth  ?  Why  is  this  more 
incredible  than  that  the  Mediator  should  upon  this  earth  "  purchase 
the  glory  of  governing  the  rest  of  the  universe,  and  that  He  should 
govern  the  whole  with  reference  to  His  Church?" — points  which  are, 
in  the  clearest  manner,  revealed.  It  is  said  that  "  He  humbled  Him- 
self, and  became  obedient  unto  death ;  wherefore  God  also  hath  highly 
exalted  Him  ;  that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow,  of 
things  in  heaven,  and  things  in  earth,  and  things  under  the  earth. 
He  raised  Him  from  the  dead,  and  set  Him  at  His  own  right  hand 
in  heavenly  places,  far  above  all  j)rincipality,  and  power,  and  might, 
and  dominion,  and  every  name  that  is  named,  not  only  in  this  world, 
but  also  in  that  which  is  to  come ;  and  hath  put  all  things  under  His 
feet,  and  gave  Him  to  be  Head  over  all  things  to  the  Church,  which 
is  His  body,  the  fullness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all." 

"What  purpose  the  Mediator  intended  to  answer  by  other  worlds 
and  their  inhabitants,  in  prosecuting  the  plan  of  redemption,  we  do 
not  fully  comprehend.  The  angels,  it  is  well  known,  are  subject  to 
Him  as  ministering  spirits  to  His  Church,  and  look  with  prying  cu- 
riosity and  astonishment  into  the  mysteries  of  redemption.  But 
what  use  He  makes  of  other  worlds  we  are  not  told  in  His  Word, 
further  than  that  they  are  put  under  His  dominion ;  and  we  also 
know  that  they  serve  to  instruct  His  Church,  while  they  influence, 
adorn,  and  enlighten  the  earth  on  which  it  resides.  And  whatever 
inhabitants  they  contain,  we  must  believe  that  they  do  now,  or  will 
in  some  future  period,  bend  to  look  into  the  transcendent  wonders 
of  redemption,  and  will  take  lessons  of  deep  instruction  and  interest 
from  the  astonishing  scenes  which  are  unfolding  on  the  earth. 


THE    KINGDOM    OF    CHRIST.  475 

But,  passing  by  other  worlds,  the  one  wliicli  we  inhabit  was  cer- 
tainly made  for  the  Mediator.  This  is  the  favored  world  where  He 
was  to  assume  the  nature  that  was  intended  to  form  the  connecting 
link  between  God  and  creatures  ;  where  He  was  to  found  a  Church 
to  be  "  a  spectacle  to  angels  and  to  men ;"  where  He  was  to  display 
the  most  august  and  awful  wonder  of  His  death.  Here  He  was  to 
find  a  miserable  race,  without  help  and  without  hope,  immersed  in 
vice  and  ignorance,  groaning  under  the  curse  of  a  holy  law,  and 
sinking  into  everlasting  woe.  Such  an  occasion  was  to  be  presented 
for  the  exercise  of  His  unequaled  compassion,  for  an  exhibition  of 
the  infinite  tenderness  of  His  heart ;  the  history  of  which  is  inscribed 
on  the  tablet  of  the  earth  in  tears  and  blood  ;  the  history  of  which 
has  been  a  milHon  of  times  repeated  by  deeply-affected  angels,  and 
will  be  rehearsed  in  the  songs  of  the  redeemed  to  eternity.  To  this 
earth,  and  to  Calvary,  methinks  I  see  every  eye  directed  from  the 
most  distant  world  which  God  has  made.  All  seem  to  point  to  this, 
and  say,  "  Behold,  for  once,  what  infinite  love  could  do  !" 

The  several  texts  and  arguments  already  adduced  prove  emphat- 
ically that  this  earth  and  all  its  furniture  were  created  for  the  Medi- 
ator. And  farther  to  confirm  this  idea,  let  me  ask,  what  valuable 
purpose,  except  by  means  of  the  Mediator,  could  a  world  be  expected 
to  answer,  which,  it  was  foreseen,  would  so  quickly  be  ruined  by 
sin  ?  What  valuable  end,  in  any  other  way,  has  it  in  fact  answered  ? 
We  judge  of  the  design  of  a  thing  by  the  use  to  which  it  is  put. 
To  what  valuable  use,  then,  has  the  earth  been  put,  but  to  bring 
glory  to  God  and  good  to  creatures,  "  through  the  mediation  of 
Christ  ?"  If  it  was  designed  for  the  happiness  of  man,  none  have 
tasted  happiness  in  it  since  the  Fall,  or  found  it  a  passage  to  heaven 
but  by  the  Mediator.  That  Priest  only  has  procured  it  blessings ; 
that  Prophet  only  has  instructed  its  ignorance  ;  that  King  only  has 
dispensed  its  comforts.  If  it  was  created  for  the  glory  of  God,  this 
glory  shines  only  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ.  "  No  man  hath  seen 
God  at  any  time ;  the  only-begotten  Son,  which  is  in  the  bosom  of 
the  Father,  He  hath  declared  Him."  Him  only  have  men  beheld  ; 
only  His  works  and  providence  do  men  contemplate.  Not  one  pur- 
pose desirable  to  benevolence,  or  illustrative  of  the  wisdom  or  good- 
ness of  its  Author,  is  answered  by  the  earth,  but  in  consequence  of 
the  mediation  of  Christ.  And  of  all  the  displays  of  divine  gloiy, 
the  richest  appear  in  His  incarnation  and  atonement,  in  the  pardon 
and  government  which  He  administers  in  the  Church. 

As  the  earth  has  in  fact  answered  no  desirable  purpose,  but 
through  the  agency  of  the  Mediator,  such  a  fact  must  have  been 


476  EDT7AED    D.   GRIFFIN. 

foreseen  in  tlie  day  of  its  creation,  and  it  mnst  have  been  made  only 
for  the  sake  of  the  good  to  be  accomplished  by  Christ.  It  was 
erected  for  a  theater  on  which  He  might  make  an  exhibition  of  the 
Divine  perfections  in  redeeming  His  Church,  and  punishing  His  ene- 
mies :  and  this  being  its  design,  the  work  of  erecting  it  was,  of  course, 
assigned  to  Him  for  whose  use  it  was  intended.  He  formed  every 
continent  and  ocean,  every  lake  and  island,  every  mountain  and  val- 
ley, to  serve  a  race,  who.  He  foresaw,  would  fall,  and  whom  He  was 
determined  to  redeem.  He  created  every  beast  that  ranges  the  des- 
ert, every  fowl  that  flutters  under  the  arch  of  heaven,  every  fish 
that  dwells  in  the  caves  of  the  ocean,  "every  drop,  and  every  dust," 
to  subserve  His  great  design  of  grace.  The  whole  plan  of  this 
world,  including  creation  and  providence,  including  every  event 
from  its  beginning  to  the  final  judgment,  was  involved  in  the  plan  of 
redemption.  The  plan  is  one,  though  comprehending  a  vast  variety 
of  parts.  Among  this  variety,  some  parts  are  designed  to  fit  the 
earth,  by  innumerable  secret  and  nameless  influences,  for  the  accom- 
modation of  a  race  to  be  redeemed ;  others,  to  unfold  the  wretched 
character  and  condition  of  men,  to  illustrate  their  need  of  a  Saviour, 
and  the  richness  of  redeeming  grace.  Others  are  intended  to  pre- 
pare the  way  for  carrying  into  effect  the  purposes  of  mercy,  and  to 
facilitate,  in  many  ways,  their  accomplishment. 

Does  the  question  arise,  how  is  it  possible  that  every  minute  sub- 
stance and  event  should  be  serviceable  to  the  kingdom  of  Christ  ? 
The  speaker  does  not  presume  to  explain  all  the  particular  relations 
and  tendencies  of  God's  works ;  but  this,  in  general,  must  be  grant- 
ed— "they  are  all  designed  to  promote  the  glory  of  God,"  though 
the  manner  can  not  be  explained.  Give  me  this,  and  you  give  me 
all :  for  whatever  promotes  the  glory  of  God  was  needful  to  the 
kingdom  of  Christ,  since  the  discovery  of  God  to  men  was  an  essen- 
tial part  of  the  plan  of  restoring  them  to  the  enjoyment  of  Him. 
The  objection  that  we  can  not  discover  the  manner  in  which  every 
thing  renders  service  to  Christ,  does  not  disprove  our  doctrine.  If 
in  so  simple  a  device  as  a  manufactory  constructed  by  human  art, 
buildings  must  be  erected,  and  many  machines,  instruments,  vessels, 
and  different  substances  employed,  the  use  of  some  of  which  a 
stranger  would  be  unable  to  explain,  though  all  are  subordinate  to 
one  end  ;  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  stupendous  plan  of  redeeming  a 
world  should  contain  an  inconceivable  variety  of  parts,  the  subserv- 
iency of  many  of  which,  though  necessary  to  the  result,  should  elude 
our  research. 

As  the  earth  was  created  for  the  Mediator,  so  it  is  preserved  to 


THE    KINQDOM    OP    CHRIST.  477 

be  the  residence  of  His  Churcii ;  in  allusion  to  whicli  fact  the  Churcli 
is  called  "  the  salt  of  the  earth,"  as  being  the  occasion  of  saving  it 
from  dissolution. 

Bj  Christ,  and  for  Christ,  the  earth  is  also  governed.  Having 
erected  this  theater  for  an  exhibition  of  redeeming  grace,  He  took  the 
management  of  it  into  His  own  hands,  and  put  it  to  the  use  for 
which  it  was  io tended.  He  early  established  a  Church  upon  it,  and 
in  the  character  of  Mediator  took  into  His  hands  its  universal  gov- 
ernment. Made  Head  over  all  things  to  the  Church,  He  has  marched 
down  the  tract  of  ages,  holding  the  north  in  His  right  hand,  and  the 
south  in  His  left,  with  His  eye  immovably  fixed  upon  this  single 
cause,  and  forcing  all  nations  and  events  to  pay  tribute  to  it.  In 
the  history  of  His  government  which  the  Holy  Ghost  has  sketched, 
we  trace  His  dealings  with  nations  and  individuals  for  many  ages, 
and  view  His  providence  under  a  column  of  light  which  discloses 
its  tendency  and  object.  Here  we  discover  His  hand  employed  be- 
hind the  scene,  in  directing  the  affairs  of  many  inferior  nations,  and 
especially  of  the  four  great  empires  of  antiquity,  with  pointed  refer- 
ence to  His  Church.  Looking  through  the  glass  of  prophecy,  we 
discern  that  throne  which  Ezekiel  saw  in  his  vision,  rolling  on  the 
wheels  of  providence  down  the  descent  of  time  to  the  end  of  the 
world,  prostrating  every  interest  raised  against  His  Church,  and 
overturning  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  full  establishment  of  His 
kingdom  upon  earth.  Under  His  government,  the  apostle  expressly 
declares,  "  all  things  work  together  for  good"  to  His  Church ;  "  all 
things  are  theirs,  whether  the  world — or  things  present,  or  things  to 
come."  The  revolutions  of  empires,  rebellions  and  wars,  the  coun- 
sels of  kings,  and  the  debates  of  senates,  are  all  pressed  into  the  serv- 
ice of  Christ.  Bibles,  sacraments.  Sabbaths,  and  the  effusions  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  have  no  other  object.  Seed-time  and  harvest,  famine 
and  pestilence,  tempests,  volcanoes,  and  earthquakes,  are  all  made 
to  advance  His  interest. 

As  this  world  was  wholly  intended  for  the  scene  of  redemption, 
"  all  the  good  which  it  contains"  belongs  to  the  plan  of  grace  that 
was  laid  in  Christ.  His  kingdom  comprises  every  valuable  object 
which  God  proposed  to  Himself  in  creating,  preserving,  and  govern- 
ing the  world — the  whole  amount  of  His  glory  upon  earth,  and  the 
immortal  blessedness  of  millions  of  men.  It  is  the  only  cause  on 
earth  that  is  worth  an  anxious  thought.  It  is  the  only  interest  which 
God  pursues  or  values,  and  the  only  object  worthy  of  the  attention 
of  men.  For  this  sole  object  were  they  created,  and  placed  in  this 
world,  with  social  affections  adapted  to  their  present  state,  with  em- 


478  EDWARD    D.  GRIFFIN. 

ployments  appointed  for  the  preservation  of  their  lives.  No  one 
interest  distinct  from  the  kingdom  of  Christ  are  they  required  to 
pursue.  No  laws  but  those  which  appertain  to  this  kingdom,  and 
which  of  course  respect  only  the  concerns  of  it,  were  ever  enacted 
by  heaven  to  direct  their  conduct.  Their  secular  employments,  their 
social  duties,  are  enjoined  only  as  subordinate  to  the  interests  of  this 
kingdom.  Their  private  and  social  propensities  they  are  not  indeed 
required  to  extinguish ;  but  with  these  about  them,  to  march  with  a 
strong  and  steady  step  directly  toward  this  great  object,  with  their 
eye  filled  with  its  magnitude,  and  with  hearts  glowing  with  desires 
for  its  promotion.  It  is  required  that  "  whether  they  eat  or  drink, 
or  whatever  they  do,  they  should  do  all"  with  reference  to  this 
object. 

As  then,  we  can  rely  on  the  decision  of  infinite  wisdom,  ex- 
pressed both  in  the  example  and  precepts  of  God,  we  are  assured 
that  this  kingdom  ought  to  engross  the  supreme  cares  of  men,  and 
exert  a  commanding  influence  over  all  their  actions ;  that  it  should 
be  the  great  object  of  their  lives,  and  their  governing  motive  every 
hour.  The  bosom  of  the  child  should  be  taught  to  beat  with  delight 
at  the  name  of  Jesus,  before  it  is  capable  of  comprehending  the  na- 
ture of  his  kingdom.  The  youth  ought  to  regulate  all  his  pleasures, 
his  actions,  and  his  hopes,  with  an  eye  fixed  on  this  kingdom.  The 
man  ought  to  respect  it  in  every  important  undertaking,  in  all  his 
common  concerns,  in  the  expressions  of  his  lips,  in  the  government 
of  his  passions,  in  the  thoughts  of  his  heart.  Not  worldly  emolu- 
ment or  distinction,  but  the  interest  of  the  blessed  Eedeemer,  should 
be  his  highest  object — should  be  daily  and  hourly  loved  and  sought 
with  all  his  heart  and  soul.  To  this  should  he  consecrate  all  his 
talents,  all  his  influence,  all  his  wealth.  Instead  of  pursuing  with 
headlong  zeal  their  separate  interests,  all  men  should  join  in  promot- 
ing this  kingdom,  as  the  common  interest  of  mankind — the  great 
concern  for  which  they  were  sent  into  the  world. 

If  the  eyes  of  men  w'ere  opened,  they  would  see  this  cause  to 
be  of  infinite  value — v-^orthy  to  be  the  object  for  which  all  things 
were  created.  It  is  the  cause  which  not  only  all  the  energies  of  na- 
ture, but  all  beings  and  agents,  conspire  to  advance.  It  is  the  be- 
loved cause  on  which  the  heart  of  the  Son  of  God  was  set,  when  it 
beat  in  the  babe  of  Bethlehem,  and  when  it  bled  on  the  point  of 
the  spear.  It  is  the  cause  to  which  angels  have  zealously  minis- 
tered ;  to  which  devils  have  involuntarily  lent  their  aid.  It  is  the 
cause  which  has  engaged  the  ardent  attention  of  wise  and  good  men 
in  every  age.     It  is  the  cause  for  which  patriarchs  prayed,  for  which 


THE    KINGDOM    OF    CHRIST.  479 

proplaets  taught,  for  wliicli  apostles  toiled,  for  wliicli  martyrs  bled. 
For  the  consummation  of  this  cause  upon  earth  many  eyes  have 
"waited,  from  age  to  age,  in  unwearied  expectation ;  "  many  prophets 
and  righteous  men  have  desired  to  see  it;"  many  who  sealed  their 
faith  with  their  blood,  looked  forward  to  this  glorious  event  with 
eyes  glistening  in  the  agonies  of  death.  "  The  whole  creation  groan- 
eth  and  travaileth  in  pain  together"  to  bring  forth  this  grand  con- 
summation. 

The  cause  of  Christ  is  the  only  one  which  will  prevail  and  live 
amid  the  wrecks  of  time.  Strong  as  the  arm  of  Omnipotence,  it 
will  hold  on  in  its  majestic  course,  bearing  down  and  crushing  every 
thing  that  resists  its  progress.  Every  interest  that  is  placed  on  this 
foundation  is  safe;  but  inevitable  ruin  awaits  every  thing  beside. 
Woe  to  the  man  whose  destinies  are  not  united  with  the  kingdom 
of  Christ !  Woe,  woe  to  the  man  who  sets  himself  to  oppose  this 
holy  kingdom ! 

Though  at  present  disregarded  by  men,  the  kingdom  of  Christ  is 
destined  to  engage  the  profound  attention  of  all  nations.  It  is  des- 
tined to  banish  from  the  abodes  of  men  the  miserable  effects  of  the 
fall,  and  to  restore  all  the  tribes  of  the  earth  to  themselves  and  to 
God.  When  the  glories  of  this  kingdom  shall  cover  all  lands — 
when,  after  a  long  succession  of  wintery  years,  the  spring-time  of  the 
world  shall  come,  when  the  beauties  of  holiness  shall  clothe 
every  region,  and  songs  of  salvation  shall  float  in  every  breeze ; 
then  will  it  be  seen  that  the  world  was  not  made  in  vain.  It 
is  transporting  to  look  down  the  vale  of  time,  and  see  the  miseries 
of  sis  thousand  years  come  to  an  end,  the  convulsions  of  a  dis- 
ordered world  composed,  and  the  glory  of  Zion  filling  all  the  earth. 

Lend  me  an  angel's  harp,  while  I  look  forward  to  approaching 
scenes,  which,  distant  as  they  then  were,  enraptured  the  souls  of  the 
holy  prophets.  How  divinely  did  they  sing,  when,  from  the  mount 
of  vision,  they  beheld  across  the  shade  of  many  troublous  years  the 
Church  standing  on  the  field  she  had  won,  triumphantly  shouting, 
"  Lo,  this  is  our  Grod ;  we  have  waited  for  Him,  we  will  be  glad  and 
rejoice  in  His  salvation  !"  Sometimes  in  the  midst  of  their  sorrows, 
while  nothing  was  escaping  them  but  the  sounds  of  a  breaking 
heart,  a  glimpse  of  this  glory  would  break  upon  their  view ;  and 
then  the  tear  which  stood  in  their  eye  forgot  to  fall,  their  half- 
uttered  sigh  died  upon  their  tongue,  they  awoke  to  rapture,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  Thou  shalt  arise  and  have  mercy  on  Zion,  for  the  time  to 
favor  her,  yea  the  set  time  is  come." 

The   Church  has    hitherto   possessed  but  a  small   proportion 


480  EDWARD    D.    GRIFFIN. 

of  a  world  created  for  its  use ;  but  tlie  day  is  drawing  ou,  when 
"  tlie  everlasting  Gospel  shall  be  preached  to  every  kindred,  and 
tongue,  and  people  ;"  when  "  from  the  rising  of  the  sun,  unto  the 
going  down  of  the  same,  the  name  of  the  Lord  shall  be  great  among 
the  Gentiles;"  when  "all  shall  know  Ilim  from  the  least  to  the 
greatest,  for  the  earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  the  glory 
of  the  Lord  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea.  And  the  ransomed  of  the 
Lord  shall  return  and  come  to  Zion  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy 
upon  their  heads;  they  shall  obtain  joy  and  gladness,  and  sorrow 
and  sighing  shall  flee  away.  Their  sun  shall  no  more  go  down,  nor 
their  moon  withdraw  itself,  for  the  Lord  shall  be  their  everlasting 
light,  and  the  days  of  their  mourning  shall  be  ended."  A  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  captives  shall  drop  their  chains,  and  come  forth 
to  light,  with  joys  too  big  for  utterance  ;  and  this  miserable  world, 
once  the  emblem  of  hell ;  this  miserable  world,  after  being  so  long 
shaken  with  tempests,  shall,  "like  the  waters  of  a  peaceful  pool,  re- 
flect the  image  of  heaven.  Paradise  shall  be  restored ;  and  then 
shall  appear,  to  the  confusion  of  all  the  enemies  of  Christ,  the 
blessed  ef&cacy  of  His  Gospel  to  heal  the  wounds  of  a  bleeding 
world.  This  is  the  triumph  of  the  woman's  seed  ;  this,  the  bruising 
of  the  serpent's  head.  Is  not  every  Christian  rapt  as  he  thus 
views  from  Pisgah  the  promised  rest  on  earth  ?  Is  enthusiasm  here 
a  crime  ?  Would  not  coldness  be  rebellion  ?  Come,  Thou  desire 
of  nations,  come  !     Come,  Thou  restorer  of  a  world ! 

Lo,  a  still  more  transporting  sight  appears!  My  ravished  eye 
beholds  the  kingdom  of  Christ  advanced  to  the  glories  of  the 
heavenly  state.  Faith  looks  through  the  vail  which  conceals 
the  eternal  world,  and  discerns  thousands  of  millions  of  happy 
beings,  ransomed  from  destruction  and  brought  home  to  their 
Father's  house ;  it  beholds  the  Church  encircling  the  throne  of  her 
Eedeemer,  casting  her  honors  at  His  feet,  buried  in  the  ocean  of  His 
glory,  united  to  the  Father  by  ineifable  relation,  while  all  heaven  is 
ringing  with  hosannas  for  redeeming  love :  "  there,  there  is  the 
august  kingdom  completed  which  God  at  first  undertook  to  erect!" 

Say  now — pronounce — is  not  the  object  worthy  of  all  the  means 
employed  for  its  attainment?  Do  you  hesitate?  Look,  and  think 
again !  Follow  only  one  human  soul  into  eternity  ;  trace  its  endless 
course  through  delights  which  flesh  and  blood  could  not  sustain,  or 
through  fire  sufficient  to  melt  down  all  the  planets ;  pursue  it 
through  the  ascending  degrees  of  its  eternal  progression;  see  it 
leaving  behind  the  former  dimensions  of  seraphim  and  cherubim, 
and  still  stretching  toward  God,  or  sinking  forever  in  the  bottomless 


THE    KINGDOM    OF    CHRIST,  481 

abyss.  My  God !  what  an  event  is  the  redemption  of  a  single  soul ! 
O  the  infinite  mercy  that  redeemed  such  countless  millions  !  0  the 
boundless  compassion  of  Christ — the  ocean  without  a  bottom  or  a 
shore !  "  O  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowl- 
edge of  God,"  which  are  disclosed  in  this  unfathomable  plan  of 
grace ! 

Where  are  infatuated  infidels  now  ?  Bring  up  hither  all  their 
bands  to  behold  the  glorious  Agent,  and  the  glorious  interest,  which 
they  oppose !  Julian,  Celsus,  and  Porphyry,  what  now  think  you 
of  Christ !  Yoltaire,  Hume,  Gibbon,  and  Bolingbroke — where  are 
now  those  tongues  which  blasphemed  the  anointed  Messiah  ?  Let 
our  subject  burst  like  ten  thousand  thunders  upon  those,  who,  in 
rejecting  the  Mediator,  resist  all  the  designs  of  God — who  would 
destroy  the  only  interest  of  the  universe — who  are  fatally  contend- 
ing with  all  the  energies  of  Omnipotence  ! 

Oh  that  I  had  a  voice  to  reach  the  hearts  of  impenitent  sinners 
of  every  class !  Knew  ye  the  infinite  glories  of  our  Messiah,  the 
darling  of  heaven,  the  wonder  of  angels,  the  august  Agent  of  the 
universe ;  knew  ye  your  ruin  and  necessities ;  knew  ye  the  tender- 
ness of  Him  who  wept  because  you  would  sin — who,  to  save  your 
wretched  souls,  sweat  drops  of  blood,  and  expired  on  the  ragged 
irons  ;  you  would  not  thus  idly  pass  by  His  reeking  cross,  you  would 
not  thus  refuse  Him  reverence,  and  coldly  cast  away  the  benefits  of 
His  dying  love ! 

In  applying  this  subject  I  would  summon,  were  I  able,  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  earth  to  arise  in  one  mass  to  urge  forward  the  cause 
of  the  Eedeemer.  Assemble,  ye  people,  from  the  four  quarters  of 
the  globe !  Awake,  ye  nations,  from  your  sleeping  pilloAV — combine 
in  this  grand  object  of  your  existence — this  common  interest  of  the 
world !  Ye  kindreds  and  tribes,  why  are  ye  searching  for  happi- 
ness out  of  this  kingdom,  and  overlooking  the  cause  of  Christ,  as 
though  He  had  no  right  to  hold  an  interest  on  earth?  Know  ye 
that  no  man  is  licensed  to  set  up  another  interest  on  this  ground 
which  is  sacred  to  the  Eedeemer.  What  have  you  to  do  in  this 
world  if  you  will  not  serve  the  Lord's  Anointed?  If  you  will  not 
submit  to  His  dominion,  and  join  to  advance  His  cause,  go,  go  to 
some  other  world — this  world  was  made  for  Christ!  But  whither 
can  you  go  from  His  presence  ?  All  worlds  are  under  His  domin- 
ion. Ah !  then  return,  and  let  your  bosoms  swell  with  the  noble 
desire  to  be  fellow-workers  with  the  inhabitants  of  other  w^orlds  in 
serving  this  glorious  kingdom. 

My  brethren,  my  brethren !  while  all  the  agents  in  the  universe 

31 


482  EDWARD    D.  GRIFFIN. 

are  employed,  some  with  fervent  desire,  and  others  by  involuntary 
instrumentality,  to  advance  the  cause  of  Christ,  will  an  individual 
of  you  refuse  it  your  cordial  support?  Can  you,  in  the  center 
of  universal  action,  consent  to  remain  in  a  torpid  state,  absorbed  in 
private  cares,  and  contracted  into  a  littleness  for  which  you  were  not 
designed?  Awake,  and  generously  expand  3-our  desires  to  encircle 
this  benevolent  and  holy  kingdom !  God,  who  has  set  you  an  ex- 
ample of  exclusive  regard  to  this  object,  demands  it  of  you.  Christ, 
who  purchased  the  Church  with  His  blood,  demands  it  of  you. 
The  holy  angels,  who  incessantly  minister  to  the  Church,  demand  it 
of  you.  The  illustrious  army  of  patriarchs,  prophets,  apostles,  and 
martyrs,  by  their  services  and  suiferings  for  the  Church,  demand  it 
of  you.  How,  then,  can  you  meet  the  eyes  of  this  awful  company  of 
spectators,  who  watch  you  from  every  window  of  heaven,  unless  you 
rouse  every  sleeping  faculty,  and  with  your  collected  powers,  join  to 
advance  the  kingdom  of  the  Kedeemer? 

My  brethren,  there  is  much  for  you  to  do.  Though  the  world 
was  made  for  Christ,  though  all  the  nations  of  it  are  intended  to 
swell  His  triumph,  yet  at  this  very  moment,  five  parts  out  of  six  of 
that  race  for  whom  He  shed  His  sacred  blood,  are  perishing  in  ignor- 
ance of  His  Gospel,  chained  in  miserable  and  degrading  servitude 
to  Satan.  Many  of  them  are  also  suffering  all  the  hardships  of  a 
barbarous  state,  without  domestic  or  civil  order,  wallowing  in  the 
sinks  of  vice,  and  besmearing  the  altars  of  devils  with  human  blood. 
Touched  v/ith  affection  for  Him  who  pitied  us  that  we  might  pity 
others — for  Him  who,  "  though  He  was  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes  be- 
came poor,  that  we  through  His  poverty  might  be  rich ;"  can  we  for- 
bear to  cherish  the  pious  wish  that  He  may  enjoy  the  reward  of  His 
dying  love  ?  Do  not  our  hearts  throb  with  desire  to  be  instrumental 
in  giving  Him  "  the  heathen  for  His  inheritance,  and  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth  for  His  possession  ?" 

Distinguished  will  be  the  glory  of  that  generation  who  shall  be 
selected  to  bear  a  conspicuous  part  in  this  blessed  work.  If  those 
who  are  now  alive  on  the  earth  decline  this  honor,  it  will  certainly 
be  seized  by  a  more  generous  and  holy  posterity.  To  the  present 
generation,  however,  it  seems  fairly  tendered  by  the  existing  indica- 
tions of  Divine  providence.  Great  events  appear  to  be  struggling 
in  their  birth.  In  the  eager  attitude  of  hope,  many  are  looking  for 
the  dawn  of  a  better  day,  and  even  believe  that  they  already  see 
the  light  purpling  the  east.  The  Christian  world,  after  long  con- 
tenting itself  with  prayers  for  the  heathen,  and  with  saying,  "Be  ye 
warmed  and  filled,"  is  awaking  to  more  charitable  views.     Men, 


THE    KINGDOM    OF    CHRIST.  483 

warmed  with  apostolic  zeal,  have  abandoned  the  comforts  of  civil- 
ized life,  and  are  gone  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  to  bear  to  benighted 
nations  the  first  tidings  of  a  precious  Saviour.  Numerous  societies 
have  risen  into  existence  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  under  whose 
patronage  missionaries  are  now  employed  from  India  to  the  Ameri- 
can wilderness,  from  Greenland  to  the  southern  ocean.  Some  of  the 
first  fruits  of  their  labors,  I  hope,  are  already  gathered  into  the 
heavenly  garner. 

While  our  brethren  are  thus  summoning  us  from  the  four  quar- 
ters of  the  earth  to  "  come  up  to  the  help  of  the  Lord,"  let  us  not 
incur  the  curse  of  Meroz ;  let  us  quickly  put  our  hands  to  the  work 
lest  it  be  done  without  us.  "  If  we  altogether  hold  our  peace  at  this 
time,  then  shall  there  enlargement  arise  from  another  place  ;  but  we 
and  our  father's  house  may  be  destroyed."  But  why  should  I  thus 
speak  ?  You,  my  brethren,  have  already  felt  the  heavenly  impulse ; 
you  have  given  to  the  Lord ;  and  the  affecting  accounts  of  your  mis- 
sionaries show  that  you  have  received,  thus  early,  the  blessing  of 
some  who  were  ready  to  perish.' 

Let  us  still  pursue  the  glorious  design,  and  rise  above  every  ob- 
jection which  a  cold,  calculating  spirit  may  cast  in  our  way.  We 
are  bound  to  persevere  by  the  express  command  to  "go  forth  into 
aU  the  world,  and  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature."  We  are 
bound  by  mercies  which  we  ourselves  have  received.  Had  not  be- 
nevolent men  devoted  their  property  and  lives  to  bring  the  Gospel 
to  our  fathers,  we  might,  this  evening,  have  been  assembled,  not  in 
this  temple  of  God,  but  to  sacrifice  our  children  on  the  altar  of  dev- 
ils. Methinks  T  hear  those  generous  spirits  crying  from  the  verge 
of  heaven,  "  Freely  ye  have  received,  freely  give." 

Let  me  never  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  man  who,  while  He 
refuses  to  aid  the  missionary  efforts  of  his  brethren,  coolly  says  that 
he  submits  the  fate  of  the  heathen  to  God.  Do  you  call  this  sub- 
mission ?  Put  it  to  the  test ;  does  it  preserve  you  equally  composed 
by  the  bed  of  your  dying  child  ?  While  the  pressure  of  private 
afflictions  can  torture  your  soul,  call  not  the  apathy  with  which  you 
view  nations  sinking  into  hopeless  ruin — call  it  not  submission,  nor 
bring  the  government  of  God  to  sanction  a  temper  as  cruel  as  it  is 
common  !  Will  the  government  of  God  convert  the  heathen  with- 
out the  means  of  grace  ?  What  nation  was  ever  so  converted  ?  It  is 
contrary  to  the  established  method  of  Divine  grace.  "  How  shall 
they  believe  in  Him  of  whom  they  have  not  heard  ?  And  how  shall 
they  hear  without  a  preacher  ?" 

No,  my  brethren,  missionaries  must  go  among  them,  and  they 


484  EDWARD    D.   GRIFFIN. 

must  he  supported.  They  can  not  support  themselves ;  they  can  not 
derive  support  from  the  heathen ;  nor  can  they  expect  to  be  "  fed 
by  ravens."  Who  then  shall  sustain  the  expense,  if  not  the  Chris- 
tian world?  and  what  portion  of  the  Christian  world  rather  than  the 
American  churches?  and  what  district  of  these  churches  rather  than 
that  in  which  we  are  assembled  ?  and  what  individuals  rather  than 
ourselves  ?  Heaven  has  given  us  the  means  ;  we  are  living  in  pros- 
perity on  the  very  lands  from  which  the  wretched  pagans  have  been 
ejected ;  from  the  recesses  of  whose  wilderness  a  moving  cry  is  heard, 
"When  it  is  well  with  you,  think  of  poor  Indians.  This  is  not 
ideal ;  we  have  received  such  messages  written  v/ith  their  tears. 

No,  we  will  not  shift  this  honorable  burden  upon  others.  We 
would  sooner  contend  for  it  as  a  privilege.  But  we  need  not  con- 
tend ;  it  is  ample  enough  to  satisfy  the  desires  of  all.  The  expense 
of  Christianizing  only  the  savages  on  our  borders  will  be  great ;  but 
to  extend  effectual  aid  to  all  the  benighted  tribes  on  the  American 
continent,  to  the  numerous  islands,  to  the  vast  regions  of  Asia  and 
Africa,  would  demand  the  resources  of  Christendom.  Every  man  is 
under  bonds  to  God  to  bear  his  full  proportion  of  this  expense.  For 
whom  but  for  the  Eedeemer  was  your  wealth  created  ?  Thus  saith 
the  Lord,  "Your  silver  and  your  gold  are  mine."  The  flocks  of 
Kedar  and  the  gold  of  Sheba  were  created  to  bring  tribute  to  His 
Church.  Should  we  sordidly  close  our  hands  against  Him,  He  can, 
with  infinite  ease,  extort  a  hundredfold,  by  sending  a  blast  into  our 
fields,  a  disease  into  our  families,  or  a  fire  into  our  dwellings. 

It  is  a  maxim  that  admits  of  general  application,  "  Whosoever 
will  save  his  life,  shall  lose  it ;  but  whosoever  will  lose  his  life  for 
Christ's  sake,  the  same  shall  save  it."  "  The  liberal  soul  shall  be 
made  fat,  and  he  that  watereth  shall  be  watered  also  himself."  "  He 
that  hath  pity  upon  the  poor  lendeth  to  the  Lord,  and  that  which 
he  hath  given  will  He  pay  him  again."  By  one  shower  of  rain,  by 
one  restraint  upon  the  winds  that  would  sink  your  ship,  by  one 
breeze  sent  to  fan  from  your  door  the  pestilental  vapor.  He  can  re- 
pay you.  And  He  can  bestow  the  blessings  of  eternity  on  you  and 
your  children.  The  best  security  for  remuneration  is  offered.  He 
tenders  you  His  blessing  to  reward  your  charity.  And  now  are  you 
Christians  ?  The  trial  is  to  be  made.  The  everlasting  fates  of  men 
turn  upon  the  existence  of  a  temper  to  prefer  the  blessing  of  God  to 
mammon.  "  To  the  merciful  He  will  show  Himself  merciful ;  but 
whose  stoppeth  his  ears  at  the  cry  of  the  poor,  he  also  shall  cry  him- 
self, but  shall  not  be  heard." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  spare,"  is  the  plea  of  sordid  reluctance.    But 


THE    KINGDOM    OF    CHRIST.  485 

a  far  different  sentiment  will  be  formed  amid  the  scenes  of  the  last 
day.  ■  Men  now  persuade  themselves  that  they  have  nothing  to  spare 
till  they  can  support  a  certain  style  of  luxury,  and  have  provided 
for  the  establishment  of  children.  But  in  the  awful  hour  when  you, 
and  I,  and  all  the  pagan  nations,  shall  be  called  from  our  graves  to 
stand  before  the  bar  of  Christ,  what  comparison  will  these  objects 
bear  to  the  salvation  of  a  single  soul !  Eternal  mercy  !  let  not  the 
blood  of  heathen  millions,  in  that  hour,  be  found  in  our  skirts ! 

Standing,  as  I  now  do,  in  sight  of  a  dissolving  universe,  behold- 
ing the  dead  arise,  the  world  in  flames,  the  heavens  fleeing  away,  all 
nations  convulsed  with  terror,  or  rapt  in  the  vision  of  the  Lamb — I 
pronounce  the  conversion  of  a  single  pagan  of  more  value  than  all 
the  wealth  that  ever  Omnipotence  produced  1  On  such  an  awfal  sub- 
ject it  becomes  me  to  speak  with  caution ;  but  I  solemnly  aver,  that 
were  there  but  one  heathen  in  the  world,  and  he  in  the  remotest 
corner  of  Asia,  if  no  greater  duty  confined  us  at  home,  it  would  be 
worth  the  pains  for  all  the  people  in  America  to  embark  together  to 
carry  the  Gospel  to  him.  Place  your  soul  in  His  soul's  stead  !  Or 
rather,  consent  for  a  moment  to  change  condition  with  the  savages 
on  our  borders.  "Were  you  posting  on  to  the  judgment  of  the  great 
day,  in  the  darkness  and  pollution  of  pagan  idolatry,  and  were  ihey 
living  in  wealth  in  this  very  district  of  the  Church,  how  hard  would 
it  seem  for  your  neighbors  to  neglect  your  misery  I  When  you 
should  open  your  eyes  in  the  eternal  world,  and  discover  the  ruin 
in  which  they  had  suffered  you  to  remain,  how  would  you  reproach 
them  that  they  did  not  even  sell  their  possessions,  if  no  other  means 
were  sufficient,  to  send  the  Gospel  to  you.  My  flesh  trembles  at  the 
prospect !  But  they  shall  not  reproach  us.  It  shall  be  known  in 
heaven  that  we  could  pity  our  brethren.  We  will  send  them  all  the 
relief  in  our  power,  and  will  enjoy  the  luxury  of  reflecting  what 
happiness  we  may  entail  on  generations  yet  unborn,  if  we  can  only 
effect  the  conversion  of  a  single  tribe. 

All  that  remains  for  me  to  add  is  a  fervent  prayer,  that  He  who 
is  viewing  from  heaven  the  events  of  this  evening  may  incline  your 
hearts  to  the  noblest  charity,  and  may  reward  it  with  everlasting 
blessings  on  you  and  your  children.     Amen. 


DISCOURSE    SEVENTY.FOURTH. 

JOHN     M.    MASON,    D.D. 

This  distinguished  diviiie  and  pulpit  orator,  was  born  in  the  city  of 
New  York,  in  1770;  where  he  also  graduated  at  Columbia  College,  in 
1789.  Having  studied  theology  with  his  father,  he  completed  his  studies 
in  Europe.  Returning  to  America,  he  succeeded  his  father  in  the  pastor- 
ate of  the  Cedar  street  Church,  in  1792.  In  1812  he  became  pastor  of  a  new 
Church  in  Murray-street.  He  had  also  accepted  the  appomtment  of  pro- 
vost in  Columbia  College  ;  which  office  he  filled  until  compelled  to  visit 
Europe,  in  1816,  on  account  of  ill  health.  On  his  return,  m  1817,  he  re- 
sumed preaching  ;  but  in  1821  took  charge  of  Dickuison  College,  Penn., 
having  already  suffered  from  two  paralytic  attacks.  From  this  cause  it 
was  impossible  to  perform  arduous  labor;  and  in  1824  he  returned  to 
New  York,  where  he  lingered  the  rest  of  his  days.  He  died  in  Decem- 
ber, 1829. 

Dr.  Mason  wi'ote  extensively  for  essays  and  re^^ews,  and  published, 
during  his  lifetime,  several  orations  and  sermons.  His  works  have  been 
collated  and  published  in  four  volumes,  8vo. 

The  mind  of  Dr.  Mason  was  of  the  most  vigorous  order,  his  theology 
Calvinistic,  and  his  piety  and  zeal  worthy  of  imitation.  He  was  emi- 
nent as  a  pulpit  orator,  his  eloquence  being  powerful  and  h-resistible. 
It  is  said  that  when  Robert  Hall  heard  him  preach,  in  1802,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  I  can  never  preach  again  !"  The  two  discourses  of  this  great 
preacher  which  are  most  celebrated,  are  his  "  Messiah's  Throne,"  and 
his  "  Gospel  for  the  Poor" — which  is  given  below.  Dr.  Mason  evidently 
gave  preference  to  the  latter,  by  its  frequent  repetition.  We  are  in- 
formed, on  good  authority,  that  during  a  Southern  tour  for  his  health, 
havmg  committed  to  memory  this  sermon,  he  preached  it  every  where 
he  went,  and  with  the  most  marked  effect.  Dr.  Spring,  in  his  "  Power 
of  the  Pulpit,"  thus  describes  the  scene  of  the  dehvery  of  this  discourse 
in  New  Haven,  in  the  year  1808.  "The  sun  had  just  risen,  when  tor- 
rents of  men  were  seen  pouring  to  the  house  of  God.  There  were  min- 
isters of  the  Gospel,  both  the  aged  and  the  young.  Learned  Professors, 
reflecting  Judges  of  the  law,  and  Lawyers  in  their  pride,  were  there. 


THE    GOSPEL    FOR    THE    POOR.  487 

There  were  Senators  and  men  of  learning  from  every  part  of  the  land. 
There  sat  the  venerable  Dwdght,  and  the  not  less  venerable  Backus, 
melted  mto  o,  flood  of  tears.  That  vast  auditory,  which  seemed  at  first 
only  to  listen  with  interest,  and  then  gaze  with  admiration,  with  few  ex- 
ceptions, covered  their  faces  and  wept." 


THE  GOSPEL  FOR  THE  POOR. 

"  To  the  poor  the  Gospel  is  preached." — Lttke,  vii.  22. 

The  Old  Testament  closes  with  a  remarkable  prediction  concern- 
ing Messiah  and  His  forerunner.  "  Behold,  I  will  send  you  Elijah 
the  prophet  before  the  coming  of  the  great  and  dreadfal  day  of  the 
Lord :  and  he  shall  turn  the  heart  of  the  fathers  to  the  children, 
and  the  heart  of  the  children  to  their  fathers,  lest  I  come  and  smite 
the  earth  with  a  curse."  Accordingly,  at  the  appointed  time,  came 
John  the  Baptist,  "  in  the  spirit  and  power  of  Elias,"  saying,  "  Re- 
pent ye,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand."  Li  his  great  work 
of  "preparing  the  way  of  the  Lord,"  he  challenged  sin  without  re- 
spect of  persons.  The  attempt  was  hazardous  ;  but,  feeling  the  maj- 
esty of  his  character,  he  was  not  to  be  moved  by  considerations 
which  divert  or  intimidate  the  ordinary  man.  Name,  sect,  station, 
were  alike  to  him.  Not  even  the  imperial  purple,  when  it  harbored 
a  crime,  afforded  protection  from  his  rebuke.  His  fidelity  in  this 
point  cost  him  his  life.  For  having  "  reproved  Herod,  for  Herodias, 
his  brother  Philip's  wife,  and  for  all  the  evils  which  Herod  had 
done,"  he  was  thrown  into  prison,  and  at  length  sacrificed  to  the 
most  implacable  of  all  resentments,  the  resentment  of  an  abandoned 
woman. 

It  was  in  the  interval  between  Lis  arrest  and  execution,  that  he 
sent  to  Jesus  the  message  on  which  my  text  is  grounded.  As  his 
office  gave  him  no  security  against  the  workings  of  unbelief  in  the 
hour  of  temptation,  it  is  not  strange,  if  in  a  dungeon  and  in  chains, 
his  mind  was  invaded  by  an  occasional  doubt.  The  question  by  two 
of  His  disciples,  "  Art  Thou  He  that  should  come,  or  do  we  look  for 
another  ?"  has  all  the  air  of  an  inquiry  for  personal  satisfaction ;  and 
so  his  Lord's  reply  seems  to  treat  it.  "  Go  your  way,  and  tell  John 
what  things  ye  have  seen  and  heard ;  how  that  the  blind  see,  the 
lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  the  deaf  hear,  the  dead  are  raised, 
to  the  poor  the  Gospel  is  preached."     The  answer  is  clear  and  con- 


JOHN    M.    MASON 

vincing.  It  enumerates  the  very  signs  by  which  the  Church  was  to 
know  her  God,  "  for  whom  she  had  waited ;"  and  they  were  enough 
to  remove  the  suspicions,  and  confirm  the  soul,  of  His  servant  John. 

Admitting  that  Jesus  Christ  actually  wrought  the  works  here 
ascribed  to  Him,  every  sober  man  will  conclude  with  Nicodemus, 
"  We  know  that  Thou  art  a  teacher  from  God ;  for  no  man  can  do 
these  miracles  that  Thou  doest,  except  God  be  with  him."  It  is  not, 
however,  my  intention  to  dwell  on  the  miraculous  evidence  of  Chris- 
tianity. The  article  which  I  select  as  exhibiting  it  in  a  plain  but  in- 
teresting view,  is,  "the  preaching  of  Gospel  to  the  poor." 

In  Scriptural  language,  "the  poor,"  who  are  most  exposed  to 
suffering  and  least  able  to  encounter  it,  represent  all  who  are  desti- 
tute of  good  necessary  to  their  perfection  and  happiness ;  especially 
those  who  feel  their  want,  and  are  disconsolate ;  especially  those  who 
are  anxiously  "  waiting  for  the  consolation  of  Israel."  Thus  in 
Psalms,  "  I  am  poor  and  needy,  yet  the  Lord  thinketh  upon  me." 
Thus  in  Isaiah,  "When  the  poor  and  needy  seek  water  and  there  is 
none,  and  their  tongue  faileth  for  thirst ;  I,  the  Lord  will  hear  them ; 
I,  the  God  of  Israel,  will  not  forsake  them."  Thus  also,  "  The  Lord 
hath  annointed  me  to  preach  good  tidings  to  the  meek ;"  the  same 
word  with  that  rendered  "  poor ;"  and  so  it  is  translated  by  Luke, 
"  To  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  poor ;"  which  is  connected,  both  in 
the  prophet  and  evangelist,  with  "  healing  the  broken-hearted."  Our 
Lord,  therefore,  refers  John,  as  He  did  the  Jews  in  the  synagogue  at 
Nazareth,  to  this  very  prediction  as  fulfilled  in  Himself.  So  that 
His  own  definition  of  His  own  religion  is,  "  a  system  of  consolation 
for  the  wretched."  This  is  so  far  from  excluding  the  "literal  poor," 
that  the  success  of  the  Gospel  with  them  is  the  pledge  of  its  success 
with  all  others :  for  they  not  only  form  the  majority  of  the  human 
race,  but  they  also  bear  the  chief  burden  of  its  calamities.  More- 
over, as  the  sources  of  pleasure  and  pain  are  substantially  the  same 
in  all  men ;  and  as  affliction,  by  suspending  the  influence  of  their 
artificial  distinctions,  reduces  them  to  the  level  of  their  common 
nature ;  whatever,  by  appealing  to  the  principles  of  that  nature,  pro- 
motes the  happiness  of  the  multitude,  must  equally  promote  the 
happiness  of  the  residue  ;  and  whatever  consoles  the  one,  must,  in 
like  circumstances,  console  the  other  also.  As  we  can  not,  therefore, 
maintain  the  suitableness  of  the  Gospel  to  the  literal  poor,  who  are 
the  mass  of  mankind,  without  maintaining  its  prerogative  of  com- 
forting the  afflicted ;  nor,  on  the  contrary,  its  prerogative  of  com- 
forting, separately  from  its  suitableness  to  the  mass  of  mankind,  I 
shall  consider  these  two  ideas  as  involving  each  other. 


THE  GOSPEL  FOR  THE  POOR.  489 

Witli  this  explanation,  the  first  thing  wliich  demands  your  notice, 
is  the  fact  itself — "  Gospel  preached  to  the  poor." 

From  the  remotest  antiquity  there  have  been,  in  all  civilized 
nations,  men  who  devoted  themselves  to  the  increase  of  knowledge 
and  happiness.  Their  speculations  were  subtile,  their  arguings  acute, 
and  many  of  their  maxims  respectable.  But  to  whom  were  their 
instructions  addressed?  To  casual  visitors,  to  selected  friends,  to 
admiring  pupils,  to  privileged  orders !  In  some  countries,  and  on 
certain  occasions,  when  vanity  was  to  be  gratified  by  the  acquisition 
of  fame,  their  appearances  were  more  public.  For  example,  one 
read  a  poem,  another  a  history,  and  a  third  a  play,  before  the  crowd 
assembled  at  the  Olympic  games.  To  be  crowned  there,  was,  in  the 
proudest  period  of  Greece,  the  summit  of  glory  and  ambition.  But 
what  did  this,  what  did  the  mysteries  of  pagan  worship,  or  what  the 
lectures  of  pagan  philosophy,  avail  the  people  ?  Sunk  in  igno- 
rance, in  poverty,  in  crime,  they  lay  neglected.  Age  succeeded  age, 
and  school  to  school ;  a  thousand  sects  and  systems  rose,  flourished, 
and  fell ;  but  the  degradation  of  the  multitude  remained.  Not  a 
beam  of  light  found  its  way  into  their  darkness,  nor  a  drop  of  con- 
solation into  their  cup.  Indeed  a  plan  of  raising  them  to  the  dig- 
nity of  rational  enjoyment,  and  fortifying  them  against  the  disasters 
of  life,  was  not  to  be  expected :  for  as  nothing  can  exceed  the  con- 
tempt in  which  they  were  held  by  the  professors  of  wisdom  ;  so  any 
human  device,  however  captivating  in  theory,  would  have  been 
worthless  in  fact.  The  most  sagacious  heathen  could  imagine  no 
better  means  of  improving  them  than  the  precepts  of  his  philosophy. 
Now,  supposing  it  to  be  ever  so  salutary,  its  benefits  must  have  been 
confined  to  a  very  few ;  the  notion  that  the  bulk  of  mankind  may 
become  philosophers,  being  altogether  extravagant.  They  ever 
have  been,  and,  in  the  nature  of  things,  ever  must  be,  unlearned. 
Besides,  the  groveling  superstition  and  brutal  manners  of  the 
heathen,  presented  insuperable  obstacles.  Had  the  plan  of  their 
cultivation  been  even  suggested,  especially  if  it  comprehended  the 
more  abject  of  the  species,  it  would  have  been  universally  derided, 
and  would  have  merited  derision,  no  less  than  the  dreams  of  modern 
folly  about  the  perfectibility  of  man. 

Under  this  incapacity  of  instructing  the  poor,  how  would  the 
pagan  sage  have  acquitted  himself  as  their  comforter?  His  dog- 
mas, during  prosperity  and  health,  might  humor  his  fancy,  might 
flatter  his  pride,  or  dupe  his  understanding ;  but  against  the  hour 
of  grief  or  dissolution  he  had  no  solace  for  himself,  and  could  have 
none  for  others.     I  am    not  to  be  persuaded,  in  contradiction  to 


490  JOHN    M.    MASON. 

every  principle  of  vaj  animal  and  rational  being,  that  pain,  and  mis- 
fortune, and  death,  are  no  evils ;  and  are  beneath  a  wise  man's  re- 
gard. And  could  I  work  myself  up  into  so  absurd  a  conviction, 
how  would  it  promote  my  comfort  ?  Comfort  is  essentially  consist- 
ent with  nature  and  truth.  By  perverting  my  judgment,  by  harden- 
ing my  heart,  by  chilling  my  nobler  warmth,  and  stifling  my  best 
affections,  I  may  grow  stupid  ;  but  shall  be  far  enough  from  conso- 
lation. Convert  me  into  a  beast,  and  I  shall  be  without  remorse ; 
into  a  block,  and  I  shall  feel  no  pain.  But  this  was  not  my  request. 
I  asked  you  for  consolation,  and  you  destroy  my  ability  to  receive  it. 
I  asked  you  to  bear  me  over  death,  in  the  fellowship  of  immortals, 
and  you  begin  by  transforming  me  into  a  monster !  Here  are  no 
glad  tidings  :  nothing  to  cheer  the  gloom  of  outward  or  inward  pov- 
erty. And  the  pagan  teacher  could  give  me  no  better.  From  him, 
therefore,  the  miserable,  even  of  his  own  country,  and  class,  and 
kindred,  had  nothing  to  hope.  But  to  "  lift  the  needy  from  the 
dunghill,"  and  wipe  away  the  tears  from  the  mourner;  to  lighten  the 
burdens  of  the  heart ;  to  heal  its  maladies,  repair  its  losses,  and  en- 
large its  enjoyments  ;  and  that  under  every  form  of  penury  and  sor- 
row, in  all  nations,  and  ages,  and  circumstances ;  as  it  is  a  scheme 
too  vast  for  the  human  faculties,  so,  had  it  been  committed  to  merely 
human  execution,  it  could  not  have  proceeded  a  single  step,  and 
would  have  been  remembered  only  as  a  frantic  reverie. 

Yet  all  this  hath  Christianity  undertaken.  Her  voice  is,  without 
distinction,  to  people  of  every  color,  and  clime,  and  condition :  to 
the  continent  and  the  isles  ;  to  the  man  of  the  city,  the  man  of  the 
field,  and  the  man  of  the  woods ;  to  the  Moor,  the  Hindoo,  and  the 
Hottentot ;  to  the  sick  and  desperate  ;  to  the  beggar,  the  convict,  and 
the  slave.  She  impairs  no  faculty,  interdicts  no  affection,  infringes 
no  relation ;  but,  taking  men  as  they  are,  with  all  their  depravity 
and  woes,  she  proffers  them  peace  and  blessedness.  Her  boasting  is 
not  vain.  The  course  of  experiment  has  lasted  through  more  than 
fifty  generations  of  men.  It  is  jDassing  every  hour  before  our  eyes ; 
and,  for  reasons  to  be  afterward  assigned,  has  never  failed,  in  a  sin- 
gle instance,  when  it  has  been  fairly  tried. 

The  design  is  stupendous  ;  and  the  least  success  induces  us  to  in- 
quire, by  whom  it  was  projected  and  carried  into  effect.  And  what 
is  our  astonishment,  when  we  learn,  that  it  was  by  men  of  obscure 
birth,  mean  education,  and  feeble  resource ;  by  men  from  a  nation 
hated  for  their  religion,  and  proverbial  for  their  moroseness ;  by  car- 
penters, and  tax-gatherers,  and  fishermen  of  Judea  !  What  shall  we 
say  of  this  phenomenon  ?     A  recurrence  to  the  Jewish  Scriptures, 


THE  GOSPEL  FOR  THE  POOR.  491 

■wLicli  had  long  predicted  it,  either  surrenders  the  argument,  or  in- 
creases the  difficulty.  If  you  admit  that  they  reveal  futurity,  you 
recognize  the  finger  of  God,  and  the  controversy  is  at  an  end.  If 
you  call  them  mere  conjectures,  you  are  still  to  account  for  their  cor- 
respondence with  the  event,  and  to  explain  how  great  a  system  of 
benevolence,  unheard,  unthought  of  by  learned  antiquity,  came  to 
be  cherished,  to  be  transmitted  for  centuries  from  father  to  son,  and 
at  length  attempted  among  the  Jews !  And  you  are  also  con- 
tradicted by  the  fact,  that  however  clearly  such  a  system  is  marked 
out  in  their  Scriptures,  they  were  so  far  from  adopting  it,  that  they 
entirely  mistook  it ;  rejected  it,  nationally,  with  disdain ;  persecuted 
unto  death  those  who  embarked  in  it ;  and  have  not  embraced  it  to 
this  day !  Yet  in  the  midst  of  this  bigoted  and  obstinate  people, 
sprang  up  the  deliverance  of  the  human  race.  "  Salvation  is  of  the 
Jews."  Within  half  a  century  after  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  His 
disciples  had  penetrated  to  the  extremes  of  the  Roman  empire,  and 
had  carried  the  "  day-spring  from  on  high"  to  innumerable  tribes 
who  were  "  sitting  in  the  region  and  shadow  of  death."  And  so  ex- 
clusively Christian  is  this  plan,  so  remote  from  the  sphere  of  com- 
mon effort,  that  after  it  has  been  proposed  and  executed,  men  revert 
perpetually  to  to  their  wonted  littleness  and  carelessness.  The 
whole  f  ice  of  Christendom  is  overspread  with  proofs,  that,  in  propor- 
tion as  they  depart  from  the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel,  they  forget  the 
multitude  as  before,  and  the  doctrines  of  consolation  expire.  In  so 
far,  too,  as  they  adapt,  to  their  own  notions  of  propriety,  the  general 
idea,  which  they  have  borrowed  from  the  Gospel,  of  meliorating  the 
condition  of  their  species,  they  have  produced,  and  are  every  day 
producing,  effects  the  very  reverse  of  their  professions.  Discontent, 
and  confusion,  and  crimes,  they  propagate  in  abundance.  They 
have  smitten  the  earth  with  curses,  and  deluged  it  with  blood.  But 
the  instance  is  yet  to  be  discovered,  in  which  they  have  "bound  up 
the  broken-hearted."  The  fact,  therefore,  that  Christianity  is,  in  the 
broadest  sense  of  the  terms,  "  glad  tidings  to  the  poor,"  is  perfectly 
original.  It  stands  without  rival  or  comparison.  It  has  no  founda- 
tion in  the  principles  of  human  enterprise ;  and  could  never  have 
existed  without  the  inspiration  of  that  "  Father  of  lights,  from  whom 
Cometh  down  every  good  and  every  perfect  gift." 

II.  As  the  Christian  fact  is  original,  so  the  reasons  of  its  ef- 
ficacy are  peculiar.  Christianity  can  afford  consolation,  because  it 
is  fitted  to  our  nature  and  character.     I  specify  particulars  : 

First.  The  Gospel  proceeds  upon  the  principle  of  immortality. 

That  our  bodies  shall  die  is  indisputable.    But  that  reluctance  of 


492  JOHN    M.    MASON. 

nature,  that  panting  after  life,  that  horror  of  annihilation,  of  which 
no  man  can  completely  divest  himself,  connect  the  death  of  the  body 
with  deep  solicitude.  While  neither  these,  nor  any  other  merely 
rational  considerations,  ascertain  the  certainty  of  future  being,  much 
less  of  future  bliss.  The  feeble  light  which  glimmered  around  this 
point  among  the  heathen,  flowed  not  from  investigation,  but  tradi- 
tion. It  was  to  be  seen  chiefly  among  the  vulgar,  who  inherited  the 
tales  of  their  fathers ;  and  among  the  poets,  who  prefered  popular 
fable  to  philosophic  speculation.  Eeason  would  have  pursued  her 
discovery ;  but  the  pagans  knew  not  how  to  apply  the  notion  of 
immortality,  even  when  they  had  it.  It  governed  not  their  precepts ; 
it  established  not  their  hope.  When  they  attempted  to  discuss  the 
grounds  of  it,  "  they  became  vain  in  their  imaginations,  and  their 
foolish  heart  was  darkened."  The  best  arguments  of  Socrates  are 
unworthy  of  a  child,  who  has  "  learned  the  holy  Scriptures."  And 
it  is  remarkable  enough,  that  the  doctrine  of  immortality  is  as  per- 
fectly detached  and  as  barren  of  moral  effect,  in  the  hands  of  mod- 
ern infidels,  as  it  was  in  the  hands  of  the  ancient  pagans.  They 
have  been  so  unable  to  assign  it  a  convenient  place  in  their  system  ; 
they  have  found  it  to  be  so  much  at  variance  with  their  habits,  and 
so  troublesome  in  their  warfare  with  the  Scriptures,  that  tlie  more 
resolute  of  the  sect  have  discarded  it  altogether.  With  the  soberer 
part  of  them  it  is  no  better  than  an  opinion ;  but  it  never  was, 
and  never  will  be,  a  source  of  true  consolation,  in  any  system  or 
any  bosom,  but  the  system  of  Christianity  and  the  bosom  of  the 
Christian.  Life  and  immortality,  about  which  some  have  guessed, 
for  which  all  have  sighed,  but  of  which  none  could  trace  the  rela- 
tions or  prove  the  existence,  are  not  merely  hinted,  they  "  are 
brought  to  light  by  the  Gospel."  This  is  the  parting  point  with 
every  other  religion ;  and  yet  the  very  point  upon  which  our  happi- 
ness hangs.  That  we  shall  survive  the  body,  and  pass  from  its  dis- 
solution to  the  bar  of  God,  and  from  the  bar  of  God  to  endless  retri- 
bution, are  truths  of  infinite  moment  and  of  pure  revelation.  They 
demonstrate  the  incapacity  of  temporal  things  to  content  the  soul. 
They  explain  why  grandeur,  and  pleasure,  and  fame  leave  the  heart 
sad.  He  who  pretends  to  be  my  comforter  without  consulting  my 
immortality  overlooks  my  essential  want.  The  Gospel  supplies  it. 
Immortality  is  the  basis  of  her  fabric.  She  resolves  the  importance 
of  man  into  its  true  reason — the  value  of  his  soul.  She  sees  under 
every  human  form,  however  ragged  or  abused,  a  spirit  unalterable 
by  external  change,  unassailable  by  death,  and  endued  with  stupen- 
dous faculties  of  knowledge  and  action,  of  enjoyment  and  suffering ; 


THE  GOSPEL  FOR  THE  POOR.  493 

a  spirit,  at  tlie  same  time,  depraved  and  guilty  ;  and  therefore  liable 
to  irreparable  ruin.  These  are  Christian  views.  They  elevate  us  to 
a  height  at  which  the  puny  theories  of  the  world  stand  and  gaze. 
They  stamp  new  interest  on  all  my  relations  and  all  my  acts.  They 
hold  up  before  me  objects  vast  as  my  wishes,  terrible  as  my  fears, 
and  permanent  as  my  being.     They  bind  me  to  eternity. 

Secondly.  Having  thus  unfolded  the  general  doctrine  of  immor- 
tality, the  Gospel  advances  further,  informing  us  that  although  a 
future  life  is  sure,  future  blessedness  is  by  no  means  a  matter  of 
course.  This  receives  instant  confirmation  from  a  review  of  our  char- 
acter as  sinners. 

None  but  an  atheist,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  a  madman,  will 
deny  the  existence  of  moral  obligation,  and  the  sanction  of  moral 
law.  In  other  words,  that  it  is  our  duty  to  obey  God,  and  that  He 
has  annexed  penalties  to  disobedience.  As  little  can  it  be  denied 
that  we  have  actually  disobeyed  Him.  Guilt  has  taken  up  its  abode 
in  the  conscience,  and  indicates,  by  signs  not  to  be  misunderstood, 
both  its  presence  and  power.  To  call  this  superstition  betrays  only 
that  vanity  which  thinks  to  confute  a  doctrine  by  giving  it  an  ill 
name.  Depravity  and  its  consequences  meet  us,  at  every  moment, 
in  a  thousand  shapes  ;  nor  is  there  an  individual  breathing  who  has 
escaped  its  taint.  Therefore  our  relations  to  our  Creator  as  innocent 
creatures  have  ceased ;  and  are  succeeded  by  the  relation  of  rebels 
against  His  government.  In  no  other  light  can  He  contemplate  us, 
because  His  "judgment  is  according  to  truth."  A  conviction  of 
this  begets  alarm  and  wretchedness.  And,  whatever  some  may  pre- 
tend, a  guilty  conscience  is  the  secret  worm  which  preys  upon  the 
vitals  of  human  peace ;  the  invisible  spell  which  turns  the  draught 
of  pleasure  into  wormwood  and  gall.  To  laugh  at  it  as  an  imaginary 
evil  is  the  mark  of  a  fool ;  for  what  can  be  more  rational  than  to 
tremble  at  the  displeasure  of  an  almighty  God  ?  If,  then,  I  ask  how 
I  am  to  be  delivered  ?  or  whether  deliverance  is  possible  ?  human 
reason  is  dumb  ;  or  if  she  open  her  lips,  it  is  only  to  tease  me  with 
conjectures,  which  evince  that  she  knows  nothing  of  the  matter. 
Here  the  Christian  verity  interferes ;  showing  me,  on  the  one  hand, 
that  my  alarm  is  well  founded ;  that  my  demerit  and  danger  are  far 
beyond  even  my  own  suspicions ;  that  God,  with  whom  I  have  to 
do,  "  will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty ;"  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
revealing  the  provision  of  His  infinite  wisdom  and  grace,  for  reliev- 
ing me  from  guilt.  "  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He  gave  His 
only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not  per- 
ish, but  have  everlasting  life."     The  more  I  ponder  this  method  of 


494  JOHN    M.    MASON. 

salvation,  the  more  I  am  convinced  that  it  displays  tlie  divine  per- 
fection and  exalts  tlie  divine  government ;  so  that  "  it  became  Him, 
for  whom  are  all  things,  and  by  whom  are  all  things,  in  bringing 
many  sons  unto  glory,  to  make  the  Captain  of  their  salvation  perfect 
through  sufferings."  Kow  I  know  where  to  obtain  the  first  requi- 
site to  happiness,  pardon  of  sin.  In  Christ  Jesus,  the  Lord,  is  that 
justifying  righteousness,  the  want  of  which,  though  I  was  ignorant 
of  the  cause,  kept  me  miserable  till  this  hour.  I  cling  to  it,  and  am 
safe.  His  precious  blood  "  purges  my  conscience."  It  "  extends 
peace  to  me  as  a  river,  and  the  glory  of  redemption  like  a  flowing 
stream."  My  worst  fears  are  dispelled ;  "  the  wrath  to  come"  is  not 
for  me  ;  I  can  look  with  composure  at  futurity,  and  feel  joy  spring- 
ing up  with  the  thought  that  I  am  immortal. 

Tldrdly.  In  addition  to  deliverance  from  wrath,  Christianity  pro- 
vides relief  against  the  "plague  of  the  heart." 

It  will  not  be  contested,  that  disorder  reigns  among  the  passions 
of  men.  The  very  attempts  to  rectify  it  are  a  sufiicient  concession ; 
and  their  ill  success  shows  their  authors  to  have  been  physicians  of 
no  value.  That  particular  ebullitions  of  passion  have  been  re- 
pressed, and  particular  habits  of  vice  overcome,  without  Christian 
aid,  is  admitted.  But  if  any  one  shall  conclude  that  these  are  ex- 
amples of  victory  of  the  principle  of  depravity,  he  will  greatly  err. 
For,  not  to  insist  that  the  experience  of  the  world  is  against  him, 
we  have  complete  evidence  that  all  reformations,  not  evangelical,  are 
merely  an  exchange  of  lusts ;  or  rather,  the  elevation  of  one  evil 
appetite  by  the  depression  of  another ;  the  strength  of  depravity 
continuing  the  same;  its  form  only  varied.  ISTor  can  it  be  other- 
wise. Untaught  of  God,  the  most  comprehensive  genius  is  unable 
either  to  trace  the  original  of  corruption,  or  to  check  its  force.  It 
has  its  fountain  where  he  least  and  last  believes  it  to  be ;  but  where 
the  Omniscient  eye  has  searched  it  out ;  in  the  human  heart ;  the 
heart,  filled  with  enmity  against  God — the  heart,  "  deceitful  above 
all  things  and  desperately  wicked."  But,  the  discovery  being 
made,  his  measures,  you  hope,  will  take  surer  effect.  Quite  the 
contrary.  It  now  defies  his  power,  as  it  formerly  did  his  wisdom. 
How  have  disciples  of  the  moral  school  studied  and  toiled !  how 
have  they  resolved,  and  vowed,  and  fasted,  watched  and  prayed, 
traveling  through  the  whole  circuit  of  devout  austerities !  and  set 
down  at  last,  "  wearied  in  the  greatness  of  their  way !"  But  no 
marvel!  the  "Ethiopian  can  not  change  his  skin,  nor  the  leopard 
his  spots."  Neither  can  impurity  purify  itself.  Here  again,  light 
from  the  footsteps  of  the  Christian  truth  breaks  in  upon  the  dark- 


THE  GOSPEL  FOR  THE  POOR.  495 

ness ;  and  Gospel  again  flows  from  her  tongue ;  tlie  Gospel  of  a 
new  heart — the  Gospel  of  regenerating  and  sanctifying  grace;  as 
the  promise,  the  gift,  the  work  of  God.  "  I  will  sprinkle  clean  water 
upon  you,  and  you  shall  be  clean ;  from  all  your  filthiness,  and  from 
all  your  idols  will  I  cleanse  you ;  a  new  heart  also  will  I  give  you, 
and  a  new  spirit  will  I  put  within  you ;  and  I  will  take  away  the 
stony  heart  out  of  your  flesh  ;  and  I  will  give  you  a  heart  of  flesh ; 
and  I  will  put  My  spirit  within  you,  and  cause  you  to  walk  in  My 
statutes,  and  ye  shall  keep  My  judgments  and  do  them."  Here  all 
our  diflEiculties  are  resolved  at  once.  The  sj^irit  of  life  in  Christ 
Jesus,  quickens  "the  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins.  The  Lord,  our 
strength,  works  in  us  all  the  good  pleasure  of  His  goodnesS;  and  the 
work  of  faith  with  power."  That  which  was  impossible  with  men, 
is  not  so  with  Him ;  for  "  with  Him  all  things  are  possible ;  even 
the  subduing  of  our  iniquities ;"  creating  us  anew,  after  His  own 
image,  "  in  knowledge,  righteousness,  and  true  holiness ;"  turning 
our  polluted  souls  into  His  own  "  habitation  through  the  Spirit ;"  and 
making  us  "meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light."  Yerily 
this  is  Gospel;  worthy  to  go  in  company  with  remission  of  sin. 
And  shall  I  conquer  at  last  ?  Shall  I,  indeed,  be  delivered  from  the 
bondage  and  the  torment  of  corruption  ?  A  new  sensation  passes 
through  my  breast.  "  I  lift  up  mine  eyes  to  the  hills  from  whence 
Cometh  my  help ;"  and  with  the  hope  of  "perfecting  holiness  in  the 
fear  of  God,"  hail  my  immortality. 

Fourthly.  Having  thus  removed  our  guilt,  and  cleansed  our 
affections,  the  Gospel  proceeds  to  put  us  in  possession  of  adequate 
enjoyment.  An  irresistible  law  of  our  being  impels  us  to  seek  hap- 
piness. Kor  will  a  million  of  frustrated  hopes  deter  from  new  ex- 
periments ;  because  despair  is  infinitely  more  excruciating  than  the 
fear  of  fresh  disappointment.  But  an  impulse,  always  vehement  and 
never  successful,  multiplies  the  materials  and  inlets  of  pain.  This 
assertion  carries  with  it  its  own  proof ;  and  the  principle  it  assumes 
is  verified  by  the  history  of  our  species.  In  every  place,  and  at  all 
times,  ingenuity  has  been  racked  to  meet  the  ravenous  desires.  Oc- 
cupation, wealth,  dignity,  science,  amusement,  all  have  been  tried ; 
are  all  tried  at  this  hour ;  and  all  in  vain.  The  heart  still  rej^ines  : 
the  unappeased  cry  is.  Give,  give.  There  is  a  fatal  error  somewhere ; 
and  the  Gospel  detects  it.  Fallen  away  from  God,  we  have  substi- 
tuted the  creature  in  His  place.  This  is  the  grand  mistake :  the 
fraud  which  sin  has  committed  upon  our  nature.  The  Gospel  re- 
veals God  as  the  satisfying  good,  and  brings  it  within  our  reach. 
It  proclaims  him  reconciled  in  Christ  Jesus,  as  our  father,  our  friend, 


496  JOHN    M.    MASON. 

our  portion.  It  introduces  us  into  His  presence  witli  liberty  to  ask 
in  tlie  Intercessor's  name,  and  asking,  to  "receive,  that  our  joy 
maybe  full."  It  keeps  us  under  His  eje;  surrounds  us  with  His 
arm  ;  feeds  us  upon  "  hving  bread"  which  He  "  gives  from  heaven :" 
seals  us  up  to  an  eternal  inheritance ;  and  even  engages  to  reclaim 
our  dead  bodies  from  the  grave,  and  fashion  them  in  beauty,  which 
shall  vie  with  heaven!  It  is  enough !  My  prayers  and  desires  can 
go  no  further:  I  have  got  to  the  "fountain  of  living  waters — Ee- 
turn  to  thy  rest,  0  my  soul,  for  the  Lord  hath  dealt  bountifully  with 
thee !" 

This  Gospel  of  immortality,  in  righteousness,  purity,  and  bliss, 
would  be  inestimable,  were  it  even  obscure,  and  not  to  be  compre- 
hended without  painful  scrutiny.     But  1  observe  again. 

Fifthly.  That,  unlike  the  systems  of  men,  and  contrary  to  their 
anticipations,  the  Gospel  is  as  simple  as  it  is  glorious.  Its  primary 
doctrines,  though  capable  of  exercising  the  most  disciplined  talent, 
are  adapted  to  the  common  understanding.  Were  they  dark  and 
abstruse,  they  might  gratify  a  speculative  mind,  but  would  be  lost 
upon  the  multitude,  and  be  unprofitable  to  all,  as  doctrines  of  con- 
solation. The  mass  of  mankind  never  can  be  profound  reasoners. 
To  omit  other  difficulties,  they  have  not  leisure.  Instruction,  to  do 
them  good,  must  be  interesting,  solemn,  repeated,  and  plain.  This 
is  the  benign  office  of  the  Gospel.  Her  principle  topics  are  few ; 
they  are  constantly  recurring  in  various  connections;  they  come 
home  to  every  man's  condition ;  they  have  an  interpreter  in  his 
bosom ;  they  are  enforced  by  motives  which  honesty  can  hardly 
mistake,  and  conscience  will  rarely  dispute.  Unlettered  men,  who 
love  their  Bible,  seldom  quarrel  about  the  prominent  articles  of 
faith  and  duty ;  and  as  seldom  do  they  apjDear  among  the  proselytes 
of  that  meager  refinement  which  arrogates  the  title  of  Philosophical 
Christianity. 

From  this  simplicity,  moreover,  the  Gospel  derives  advantages  in 
consolation.  Grief,  whether  in  the  learned  or  illiterate,  is  always 
simple.  A  man,  bowed  down  under  calamity,  has  no  relish  for  in- 
vestigation. His  powers  relax;  he  leans  upon  his  comforter;  his 
support  must  be  without  toil,  or  his  spirit  faints.  Conformably  to 
these  reflections,  we  see,  on  the  one  hand,  that  the  unlearned  com- 
pose the  bulk  of  Christians,  the  life  of  whose  souls  is  the  substantial 
doctrines  of  the  cross — and  on  the  other  that  in  the  time  of  affliction 
even  the  careless  lend  their  ear  to  the  voice  of  revelation.  Precious 
at  all  times  to  believers,  it  is  doubly  precious  in  the  hour  of  trial. 
These  things  prove,  not  only  that  the  Gospel,  when  understood,  gives 


THE    GOSPEL    FOR    THE    POOR.  497 

a  peculiar  relief  in  trouble,  but  that  it  is  readily  apprebended,  being 
most  acceptable,  when  we  are  the  least  inclined  to  critical  research. 

Sixthly.  The  Gospel,  so  admirable  for  its  simplicity,  has  also  the 
recommendation  of  truth.  The  wretch  who  dreams  of  transport,  feels 
a  new  sting  in  his  wretchedness,  when  he  opens  his  eyes  and  the  de- 
lusion is  fled.  No  real  misery  can  be  removed,  nor  any  real  benefit 
conferred,  by  doctrines  which  want  the  seal  of  certainty.  And  were 
the  Gospel  of  Jesus  a  human  invention,  or  were  it  checked  by  any 
rational  suspicion  that  it  may  turn  out  to  be  a  fable,  it  might  retain 
its  brilHancy,  its  sublimity,  and  even  a  portion  of  its  interest,  but  the 
charm  of  its  consolation  would  be  gone.  Nay,  it  would  add  gall  to 
bitterness  by  fostering  a  hope  which  the  next  hour  might  laugh  to 
scorn.  But  we  may  dismiss  our  anxiety,  for  there  is  no  hazard  of 
such  an  issue.  Not  only  "  grace,"  but  "  truth"  came  by  Jesus  Christ, 
"  The  gracious  words  which  proceeded  out  of  His  mouth"  were 
words  of  the  "  Amen,  the  faithful  and  true  Witness ;"  and  those 
which  He  has  written  in  His  blessed  book,  are  "  pure  words,  as  sil- 
ver tried  in  the  furnace,  purified  seven  times."  His  promises  can  no 
man  deny  to  be  "  exceeding  great ;"  yet  they  derive  their  value  to  us 
from  assurances  which,  by  satisfying  the  hardest  conditions  of  evi- 
dence, render  doubt  not  only  inexcusable,  but  even  criminal.  "  By 
two  immutable  things  in  which  it  was  impossible  for  God  to  lie,  we 
have  a  strong  consolation  who  have  fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold  upon 
the  hope  set  before  us."  Now,  therefore,  the  promises  of  the  Gospel 
which  are  "exceeding  great,"  are  also  "precious."  "We  need  not 
scruple  to  trust  ourselves  for  this  life  and  the  life  to  come,  upon  that 
Word  which  shall  stand  when  "  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away." 
Oh,  it  is  this  which  makes  Christianity  glad  tidings  to  the  depressed 
and  perishing!  No  fear  of  disappointment!  No  hope  that  shall 
"  make  ashamed !"  Under  the  feet  of  evangelical  faith  is  a  covenant- 
promise,  and  that  promise  is  everlasting  Eock.  "  I  know,"  said  one, 
whose  testimony  is  corroborated  by  millions  in  both  worlds,  "  I  know 
whom  I  have  believed,  and  I  am  persuaded  that  He  is  able  to  keep 
that  which  I  have  committed  unto  Him  against  that  day. 

Lastly.  The  Gospel,  as  a  system  of  consolation  is  perfected  by  the 
authority  and  energy  which  accompany  it.  The  devices  of  man 
originate  in  his  fancy,  and  expire  with  his  breath.  Destitute  of 
power,  they  play  around  depravity  like  shadows  round  the  mountain 
top,  and  vanish  without  leaving  an  impression.  Their  eftect  would 
be  inconsiderable  could  he  manifest  them  to  be  true ;  because  he  can 
not  compel  the  admission  of  truth  itself  into  the  human  mind.  In- 
difference, unreasonableness,  prejudice,  petulance^  oppose  to  it  an. 

32 


498  JOHN    M.    MASON. 

almost  incredible  resistance.  We  see  this,  in  the  affairs  of  every  day, 
and  especially  in  the  stronger  conflicts  of  opinion  and  passion.  JSTow, 
besides  the  opposition  which  moral  truth  has  always  to  encounter, 
there  is  a  particular  reason  why  the  truth  of  the  Gospel,  though  most 
salutary,  though  attested  by  every  thing  within  us  and  around  us, 
by  life  and  death,  by  earth,  and  heaven  and  hell,  will  not  succeed 
unless  backed  by  Divine  energy.  It  is  this.  Sin  has  perverted  the 
understanding  of  man,  and  poisoned  his  heart.  It  persuaded  him 
first  to  throw  away  his  blessedness,  and  then  to  hate  it.  The  reign 
of  this  hatred,  which  the  Scriptures  call  "enmity  against  God,"  is 
most  absolute  in  every  unrenewed  man.  It  teaches  him  never  to 
yield  a  point  unfriendly  to  one  corruption,  without  stipulating  for  an 
equivalent  in  favor  of  another.  Now  as  the  Gospel  flatters  none  of 
his  corruptions  in  any  shape,  it  meets  with  deadly  hostility  from  all 
his  corruptions  in  every  shape.  It  is  to  no  purpose  that  you  press 
upon  him  the  "  great  salvation,"  that  you  demonstrate  his  errors  and 
their  corrective,  his  diseases  and  their  cure.  Demonstrate  you  may, 
but  you  convert  him  not.  He  will  occasionally  startle  and  listen, 
but  it  is  only  to  relapse  into  his  wonted  supineness,  and  you  shall  as 
soon  call  up  the  dead  from  their  dust,  as  awaken  him  to  a  sense  of 
his  danger,  and  prevail  with  him  to  embrace  the  salvation  of  God. 
"  Where  then,"  you  will  demand,  "  is  the  pre-eminence  of  your  Gos- 
pel ?"  I  answer,  with  the  Apostle  Paul,  that  "  it  is  the  power  of  God 
to  salvation."  When  a  sinner  is  to  be  converted,  that  is,  when  a 
slave  is  to  be  liberated  from  his  chains,  and  a  rebel  from  execution, 
that  same  voice  which  has  spoken  in  the  Scriptures,  speaks  by  them 
to  his  heart,  and  commands  an  audience.  He  finds  the  word  of  God 
to  be  "  quick  and  powerful,  and  sharper  than  a  two-edged  sword." 
It  sets  him  before  the  bar  of  Justice,  strips  him  of  his  self-import- 
ance, "sweeps  away  his  refuge  of  lies!"  and  shows  him  that  death 
which  is  "  the  wages  of  sin."  It  then  conducts  him,  all  trembling, 
to  the  Divine  forgiveness,  reveals  Christ  Jesus  in  his  soul  as  his  right- 
eousness, his  peace,  his  hope  of  glory.  Amazing  transition !  But 
is  not  the  cause  equal  to  the  effect?  "  Hath  not  the  potter  power 
over  the  clay  ?"  Shall  God  draw,  and  the  lame  not  run  ?  Shall  God 
speak,  and  the  deaf  not  hear?  Shall  God  breathe,  and  the  slain  not 
live  ?  Shall  God  "  lift  up  the  light  of  His  countenance"  upon  sinners 
reconciled  in  His  dear  Son,  and  they  not  be  happy?  Glory  to  His 
name  1  These  are  no  fictions.  "  We  speak  that  we  do  know,  and 
testify  that  we  have  seen.  The  record,  written  not  Avith  ink,  but 
with  the  Spirit  of  the  living  God  ;  not  in  tables  of  stone,  but  in  fleshy 
tables  of  the  heart,"  is  possessed  by  thousands  who  have  "turned 


THE    GOSPEL    FOR    THE    POOR.  499 

from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God,"  and  will  certify  that  the  revolution 
was  accomplished  by  His  word.  And  if  it  perform  such  prodigies  on 
corruption  and  death,  what  shall  it  not  perform  in  directing,  establish- 
ing, and  consoling  them  who  have  already  obtained  a  "  good  hope 
through  grace  ?"  He  who  thunders  in  the  curse  speaks  peace  in  the 
promise,  and  none  can  conceive  its  influence  but  they  who  have  wit- 
nessed it.  For  proofs  you  must  not  go  to  the  statesman,  the  traveler, 
or  the  historian.  You  must  not  go  to  the  gay  profession,  or  the 
splendid  ceremonial.  You  must  go  the  chamber  of  unostentatious 
piety.  You  must  go  to  the  family  anecdote,  to  the  Christian  tradi- 
tion, to  the  observation  of  faithful  ministers.  Of  the  last  there  are 
many  who,  with  literal  truth,  might  address  you  as  follows:  " I  have 
seen  this  Gospel  hush  into  a  calm  the  tempest  raised  in  the  bosom 
by  conscious  guilt.  I  have  seen  it  melt  down  the  most  obdurate  into 
tenderness  and  contrition.  I  have  seen  it  cheer  up  the  broken-heart- 
ed, and  bring  the  tear  of  gladness  into  eyes  swollen  with  grief.  I 
have  seen  it  produce  and  maintain  serenity  under  evils  which  drive 
the  worldling  mad.  I  have  seen  it  reconcile  the  sufferer  to  his  cross, 
and  send  the  song  of  praise  from  lips  quivering  with  agony.  I  have 
seen  it  enable  the  most  affectionate  relatives  to  part  in  death,  not 
without  emotion,  but  without  repining,  and  with  a  cordial  surrender 
of  all  that  they  held  most  dear,  to  the  disposal  of  their  heavenly 
Father,  I  have  seen  the  fading  eyQ  brighten  at  the  promise  of  Jesus, 
'  Where  I  am,  there  shall  my  servant  be  also.'  I  have  seen  the  faith- 
ful spirit  released  from  its  clay,  now  mildly,  now  triumphantly,  to 
enter  into  the  joy  of  its  Lord." 

Who,  among  the  children  of  men,  that  doubts  this  representa- 
tion, would  not  wish  it  to  be  correct?  Who,  that  thinks  it  only 
probable,  will  not  welcome  the  doctrine  on  which  it  is  founded,  as 
worthy  of  all  acceptation  ?  And  who  that  knows  it  to  be  true,  will 
not  set  his  seal  to  that  doctrine  as  being,  most  emphatically,  "  Gos- 
pel preached  to  the  poor  ?" 

In  applying  to  practical  purposes,  the  account  which  has  noAV 
been  given  of  the  Christian  religion,  I  remark, 

1.  That  it  fixes  a  criterion  of  Christian  ministrations. 

If  He,  who  "  spake  as  never  man  spake,"  has  declared  His  own 
doctrine  to  abound  with  consolation  to  the  miserable,  then,  certainly, 
the  instructions  of  others  are  evangelical,  only  in  proportion  as  they 
subserve  the  same  gracious  end.  A  contradiction,  not  unfrequent 
among  some  advocates  of  revelation,  is  to  urge  against  the  infidel 
its  power  of  comfort,  and  yet  to  avoid,  in  their  own  discourses,  al- 
most every  principle  from  which  that  power  is  drawn.     Disregard- 


500  JOHN    M.    MASON. 

ing  tlie  mass  of  mankind,  to  whom  the  Gospel  is  pecuharlj  fitted ; 
and  omitting  those  truths  which  might  revive  the  grieved  spirit,  or 
touch  the  slumbering  conscience,  thej  discuss  their  moral  topics  in  a 
manner  unintelligible  to  the  illiterate,  uninteresting  to  the  mourner, 
and  without  alarm  to  the  profane.  This  is  not  "preaching  Christ." 
Elegant  dissertations  upon  virtue  and  vice,  upon  the  evidences  of 
revelation,  or  any  other  general  subject,  may  entertain  the  pros- 
perous and  the  gay  ;  but  they  will  not  "  mortify  our  members  which 
are  upon  the  earth ;"  they  will  not  unsting  calamity,  nor  feed  the 
heart  with  an  imperishable  hope.  When  I  go  to  the  house  of  God, 
I  do  not  want  amusement.  1  want  "  the  doctrine  which  is  accord- 
ing to  godliness."  I  want  to  hear  of  the  remedy  against  the  haras- 
sings  of  my  guilt,  and  the  disorder  of  my  affections.  I  want  to  be 
led  from  weariness  and  disappointment,  to  that  "  goodness  which 
filleth  the  hungry  soul."  I  want  to  have  light  upon  the  mystery  of 
providence ;  to  be  taught  how  the  "judgments  of  the  Lord  are 
right ;"  how  I  shall  be  prepared  for  duty  and  for  trial — ^how  I  may 
"pass  the  time  of  ray  sojourning  here  in  fear,"  and  close  it  in  peace. 
Tell  me  of  that  Lord  Jesus,  "  who  His  own  self  bore  our  sins  in  His 
own  body  on  the  tree."  Tell  me  of  His  "intercession  for  the  trans- 
gressors" as  their  "  advocate  with  the  Father."  Tell  me  of  His  Holy 
Spirit,  whom  "they  that  believe  on  Him  receive,"  to  be  their  pre- 
server, sanctifier,  comforter.  Tell  me  of  His  chastenings  ;  their  ne- 
cessity, and  their  use.  Tell  me  of  His  presence,  and  sympathy,  and 
love.  Tell  me  of  the  virtues,  as  growing  out  of  His  cross,  and  nur- 
tured by  His  grace.  Tell  me  of  the  glory  reflected  on  His  name  by 
the  obedience  of  faith.  Tell  me  of  vanquished  death,  of  the  purified 
grave,  of  a  blessed  resurrection,  of  the  life  everlasting — and  my  bo- 
som warms.  This  is  Gospel ;  these  are  glad  tidings  to  me  as  a  suf- 
ferer, because  glad  to  me  as  a  sinner.  They  rectify  my  mistakes  ; 
allay  my  resentments ;  rebuke  my  discontent ;  support  me  under  the 
weight  of  moral  and  natural  evil.  These  attract  the  poor ;  steal 
upon  the  thoughtless  ;  awe  the  irreverent ;  and  throw  over  the  serv- 
ice of  the  sanctuary  a  majesty,  which  some  fashionable  modes  of 
address  never  fail  to  dissipate.  "Where  they  are  habitually  neg- 
lected, or  lightly  referred  to,  there  may  be  much  grandeur,  but 
there  is  no  Gospel;  and  those  preachers  have  infinite  reason  to 
tremble,  who  though  admired  by  the  great,  and  caressed  by  the  vain, 
are  deserted  by  the  poor,  the  sorrowful,  and  such  as  "  walk  humbly 
with  their  God." 

2.  We  should  learn  from  the  Gospel,  lessons  of  active  benevo- 
lence. 


THE    GOSPEL    FOR    THE    POOR.  501 

The  Lord  Jesus,  who  "  went  about  doing  good,  has  left  us  an  ex- 
ample that  we  should  follow  His  steps."  Christians,  on  whom  He 
has  bestowed  affluence,  rank,  or  talent,  should  be  the  last  to  disdain 
their  fellow-men,  or  to  look  with  indifference  on  indigence  and  grief. 
Pride,  unseemly  in  all,  is  detestable  in  them,  who  confess  that  "by 
grace  they  are  saved."  Their  Lord  and  Redeemer,  who  humbled 
Himself  by  assuming  their  nature,  came  to  "deliver  the  needy,  when 
he  crieth,  the  poor  also,  and  him  that  hath  no  helper."  And  surely 
an  object,  which  was  not  unworthy  of  the  Son  of  God,  can  not  be 
unworthy  of  any  who  are  called  by  His  name.  Their  wealth  and 
opportunities,  their  talents  and  time,  are  not  their  own,  nor  to  be 
used  according  to  their  own  pleasure  ;  but  to  be  consecrated  by  their 
vocation  "  as  fellow-workers  with  God."  How  many  hands  that 
hang  down  would  be  lifted  up  ;  how  many  feeble  knees  confirmed ; 
how  many  tears  wiped  away ;  how  many  victims  of  despondency  and 
infamy  rescued  by  a  close  imitation  of  Jesus  Christ.  Go,  with  your 
opulence  to  the  house  of  famine,  and  the  retreats  of  disease.  Go, 
"deal  thy  bread  to  the  hungry  ;  wlien  thou  secst  the  naked,  cover 
him  ;  and  hide  not  thyself  from  thine  own  flesh."  Go,  and  furnish 
means  to  rear  the  offspring  of  the  poor ;  that  they  may  at  least  have 
access  to  the  word  of  your  God.  Go,  and  quicken  the  flight  of  the 
angel,  who  has  "  the  everlasting  Gospel  to  preach"  unto  the  nations. 
If  you  possess  not  wealth,  employ  your  station  in  promoting  "  good- 
will toward  men.  Judge  the  fatherless;  plead  for  the  widow." 
Stimulate  the  exertions  of  others,  who  may  supply  what  is  lacking 
on  your  part.  Let  the  "  beauties  of  holiness"  pour  their  luster  upon 
your  distinctions,  and  recommend  to  the  unhappy  that  peace,  which 
yourselves  have  found  in  the  salvation  of  God.  If  you  have  neither 
riches  nor  rank,  devote  your  talents.  Ravishing  are  the  accents, 
which  dwell  on  the  "tongue  of  the  learned,"  when  it  "speaks  a 
word  in  season  to  him  that  is  weary."  Press  your  genius  and  your 
eloquence  into  the  service  of  the  "Lord  your  righteousness,"  to 
magnify  His  word,  and  display  the  riches  of  His  grace.  Who  know- 
eth,  whether  He  may  honor  you  to  be  the  minister  of  joy  to  the  dis- 
consolate, of  liberty  to  the  captive,  of  life  to  the  dead  ?  If  He  has 
denied  you  wealth,  and  rank,  and  talent,  consecrate  your  heart. 
Let  it  dissolve  in  sympathy.  There  is  nothing  to  hinder  your  "  re- 
joicing with  them  that  do  rejoice,  and  your  weeping  with  them  that 
weep ;"  nor  to  forbid  the  interchange  of  kind  and  soothing  offices. 
"  A  brother  is  born  for  adversity ;"  and  not  only  should  Christian 
be  to  Christian  "  a  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother,"  but 
he  should  exemplify  the  loveliness  of  his  religion  to  "  them  that  are 


502  JOHN    M.    MASON. 

witlioat."  An  action,  a  word,  marked  by  tlie  sweetness  of  tlie  Gos- 
pel, has  often  been  owned  of  God  for  producing  tlie  liapj^iest  effects. 
Let  no  man,  tberefore,  try  to  excuse  his  inaction  ;  for  no  man  is  too 
inconsiderable  to  augment  the  triumphs  of  the  Gospel,  by  assisting 
in  the  consolation  which  it  yields  to  the  miserable. 

S.  Let  all  classes  of  the  unhappy  repair  to  the  Christian  truth, 
and  "  draw  water  with  joy  out  of  its  wells  of  salvation !"  Assume 
your  own  characters,  0  ye  children  of  men ;  present  your  griev- 
ances, and  accept  the  consolation  which  the  Gospel  tenders.  Come, 
now,  ye  tribes  of  pleasure,  who  have  exhausted  your  strength  in 
pursuing  phantoms  that  retire  at  your  approach !  The  voice  of  the 
Son  of  God  in  the  Gospel  is,  Wherefore  "  spend  ye  your  money  for 
that  which  is  not  bread,  and  your  labor  for  that  which  satisfieth  not ; 
hearken  diligently  unto  Me,  and  eat  ye  that  which  is  good,  and  let 
your  soul  delight  itself  in  fatness!"  Come,  ye  tribes  of  ambition, 
who  bui'n  for  the  applause  of  your  fellow- worms.  The  voice  of  the 
Son  of  God  to  you  is,  "  The  friendship  of  this  world  is  enmity  with 
God  ;"  but  "if  any  serve  Me,  him  will  My  Father  honor."  Come, 
ye  avaricious,  who  "  pant  after  the  dust  of  the  earth  on  the  head  of 
the  poor."  The  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  is,  Wisdom  is  "  more  pre- 
cious than  rubies  ;  and  all  the  things  thou  canst  desire  are  not  to  be 
compared  unto  her" — but  "  what  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  shall 
gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul?"  Come,  ye  profane  ! 
The  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  is,  "  Hearken  unto  Me,  ye  stout-hearted, 
that  are  far  from  righteousness;  behold,  I  bring  near  My  righteous- 
ness." Come,  ye  formal  and  self- sufficient,  who  say  "  that  ye  are 
rich,  and  increased  with  goods,  and  have  need  of  nothing;  and 
know  not  that  you  are  wretched,  and  miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind, 
and  naked."  The  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  is,  "  I  counsel  you  to 
buy  of  Me  gold  tried  in  the  fire  that  ye  may  be  rich ;  and  white 
raiment  that  ye  may  be  clothed ;  and  that  the  shame  of  your  naked- 
ness do  not  appear ;  and  anoint  your  eyes  with  eye-salve,  that  ye 
may  see."  Come,  ye,  who,  being  convinced  of  sin,  fear  lest  the 
"  fierce  anger  of  the  Lord  fall  upon  you."  The  voice  of  the  Son 
of  God  is,  "  Him  that  cometh  unto  Me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out." 
"I,  even  I,  am  He  that  blotteth  out  thy  transgressions  for  Mine  own 
sake,  and  will  not  remember  thy  sins."  Come,  ye  disconsolate, 
whose  souls  are  sad,  because  the  Comforter  is  away.  The  voice  of 
the  Son  of  God  is,  The  Lord  "  hath  sent  Me  to  appoint  unto  them 
that  mourn  in  Zion,  beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning, 
and  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness."  Come,  ye 
tempted,  who  are  borne  down  with  the  violence  of  the  "law  in  your 


THE  GOSPEL  FOR  THE  POOR.  503 

members,  and  of  assaults  from  tlie  evil  one.  The  voice  of  tlie  Son 
of  God  is,  "I  will  be  merciful  to  your  unrighteousness;  and  the 
God  of  peace  shall  bruise  Satan  under  your  feet  shortly."  Come, 
ye  children  of  domestic  woe,  upon  whom  the  Lord  has  made  a  breach, 
by  taking  away  your  counselors  and  support.  The  voice  of  the  Son 
of  God  is,  "Leave  thy  fatherless  children  with  Me  ;  I  will  preserve 
them  alive ;  and  let  thy  widows  trust  in  Me."  Come,  ye  from  whom 
mysterious  providence  has  swept  away  the  acquisitions  of  long  and 
reputable  industry.  The  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  is,  "  My  son,  if 
thou  wilt  receive  My  words,  thou  shalt  have  "  a  treasure  in  the  heav- 
ens that  faileth  not ;"  and  mayest  "take  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  thy 
goods,  knowing  that  thou  hast  in  heaven  a  better  and  an  enduring 
substance."  Come,  ye  poor,  who  without  property  to  lose,  are  grap- 
pling with  distress,  and  exposed  to  want.  The  Son  of  God,  though 
the  heir  of  all  things^  "had  not  where  to  lay  His  head;"  and  His 
voice  to  His  poor  is,  "  Be  content  with  such  things  as  ye  have,  for  I 
will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee ;  thy  bread  shall  be  given 
thee,  and  thy  water  shall  be  sure."  Come,  ye  reproached,  who  find 
"  cruel  mockings"  a  most  bitter  persecution.  The  voice  of  the  Son 
of  God  is,  "  K  ye  be  reproached  for  the  name  of  Christ,  happy  are 
ye,  for  the  Spirit  of  God  and  of  glory  resteth  upon  you.  Come,  in 
fine,  ye  dejected,  whom  the  fear  of  death  holds  in  bondage.  The 
voice  of  the  Son  of  God  is,  "  I  will  ransom  them  from  the  power  of 
the  grave ;  I  will  redeem  them.  O  death,  I  will  be  thy  plagues ! 
O  grave,  I  will  be  thy  destruction !  repentance  shall  be  hid  from 
Mine  eye;"  blessed  Jesus!  thy  loving-kindness  shall  "be  My  joy  in 
the  house  of  My  pilgiimage ;"  and  I  will  praise  thee  "  while  I  have 
any  being,"  for  that  Gospel  which  thou  hast  preached  to  the  poor ! 


DISCOURSE    SEYENTY.FIFTH. 

WILLIAM     STAUGHTON,    D.  E>. 

De.  Staughtox  was  born  in  England,  at  Coventry,  in  Warwickshire, 
in  the  year  1770 — the  same  year  in  which  Drs.  Griffin  and  Mason  were 
born.  At  the  early  age  of  twelve  years  he  discovered  remarkable 
talents,  and  comjDosed  several  poems,  which  were  published  and  admired. 
At  the  age  of  seventeen  he  wrote  a  book  called  "  Juvenile  Poems."  His 
literary  studies  were  pursued  at  Bristol ;  and  in  that  place  he  began  oc- 
casionally to  preach,  and  drew  together  large  assemblies.  He  came  to 
this  country  in  1793,  at  the  request  of  his  brethren  in  England,  upon  a 
call  from  Dr.  Furman,  of  South  Carolina,  for  a  yoimg  man  of  promise  to 
take  charge  of  the  Baptist  church  in  Georgetown  in  that  State.  His 
first  ministerial  connection,  of  about  seventeen  months,  was  with  the 
above-named  church.  Thence  he  removed  to  New  York ;  but,  falling 
sick  with  the  yellow  fever,  and  being  otherwise  afflicted,  he  chose  a 
residence  in  New  Jersey,  and  settled  first  with  the  church  at  Borden- 
town,  and  then  with  that  at  Burlington.  While  residing  at  the  latter 
place,  such  was  his  reputation  for  brilHancy  of  talent,  that  Princeton 
College  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity,  though 
then  only  twenty-eight  years  of  age.  In  1 806  he  removed  to  Philadel- 
phia— the  scene  of  his  greatest  labors  and  success — and  assumed  the 
charge  of  the  first  Baptist  church.  There  his  ministry  was  blessed  with 
the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit,  and  durmg  this  pastorate,  of  five  years, 
he  received  about  three  hundred  by  baptism.  In  1811  he  became 
pastor  of  the  Sansom-street  church,  formed  that  year,  and  upon  the 
erection  of  their  spacious  house  of  worship,  it  was  crowded  with  an  ad- 
miring audience.  In  1817  Dr.  Staughton  was  chosen  President  of  Co- 
lumbian College,  Georgetown,  D.  C. ;  which  office  he  filled  for  more  than 
ten  years.  Upon  the  formation  of  the  literary  and  Theological  Institu- 
tion in  that  city,  he  accepted  the  appointment  to  its  presidency ;  but, 
settmg  out  for  that  place  from  Philadelphia,  he  was  taken  sick  upon  the 
way,  and  died  in  Washington,  Dec.  12,  1829. 

Dr.  Staughton  possessed  a  mind  of  remarkable  \'igor  and  activity, 
and  a  heart  full  of  zeal  and  noble  purposes  for  the  cause  of  tiie  Re- 
deemer. Few  men  ever  enjoyed  a  wider  popularity,  and  more  heartily 
consecrated  it  to  the  best  of  objects.    He  excelled  as  an  educator,  and  is 


GOD    DWELLING    AMONG    MEN.  505 

said  to  have  been  almost  unrivaled  in  pulpit  eloquence.  It  is  to  be  re- 
gretted that  so  few  of  his  thrUling  utterances — generally  unwi-itten — 
have  been  preserved.  "We  have  met  wdth  only  three  of  his  printed  pro- 
ductions ;  one,  an  address  delivered  at  the  opening  of  Columbian  Col- 
lege, and  two  sermons  ;  that  here  given  being  superior  to  the  other.  It 
was  delivered  at  the  dedication  of  the  house  of  worship  of  the  Hight- 
stown  Baptist  church,  N.  J.,  Nov.  26,  1803.  A  few  passages,  chiefly  of 
a  local  interest,  are  omitted.  The  discourse  is  worthy  of  the  preacher's 
rejDutation ;  abounding  as  it  does  in  bold  and  striking  conceptions,  ex- 
pressed with  the  various  essentials  of  true  Christian  eloquence. 


GOD  DWELLING  AMONG  MEN. 

"  But  will  God  indeed  dwell  on  the  earth  ?" — 1  Kings,  viii.  27. 

It  is  the  duty  of  reasonable  creatures  to  worship  the  everlasting 
God.  His  majesty  claims  our  adoration,  and  His  mercy  our  grati- 
tude. Nature  herself,  feeble  as  is  her  capacity  for  discovering  and 
leading  men  along  the  paths  of  moral  duty,  has,  nevertheless,  in  all 
ages,  pointed  the  barbarian  to  the  Supreme  Power,  from  whom  all 
good  is  derived,  and  on  the  guidance  of  whose  providence  all  revo- 
lutions depend.  "  Pass  over  the  earth,"  said  Plutarch,  "  you  may 
discover  cities  without  walls,  without  literature,  without  monarchs, 
without  palaces  or  wealth,  where  the  theater  and  the  school  are  not 
known ;  but  no  man  ever  saw  a  city  without  temples  and  gods, 
where  prayers,  and  oaths,  and  oracles,  and  sacrifices  were  not  used 
for  obtaining  good  or  averting  evil." 

This  duty  is  more  clearly  taught,  and  enforced  with  still  stronger 
motives,  in  the  volume  of  Eevelation.  Almost  every  page  instructs 
"US  to  worship  the  Lord  our  God,  and  to  serve  Him  only.  We  have 
examples  rising  in  succession  for  our  imitation.  The  mode  of  wor- 
ship may  vary,  but  the  devotional  jmnciple  must  be  the  same. 

As  the  necessities  we  feel  and  the  blessings  we  enjoy,  for  the 
most  part,  respect  us  not  merely  as  individuals,  but  as  members  of  a 
large  community,  with  solitary  worship  man  is  not  to  satisfy  him- 
self The  blasting  and  the  mildew,  the  sword  and  the  pestilence, 
the  locust  and  the  famine,  are  not  private  calamities.  National  vic- 
tory over  unjust  opposition,  peace  in  all  our  borders,  fruitful  showers 
and  golden  harvests,  are  not  private  blessings.  Thousands  feel  the 
pang  or  divide  the  transport.  Hence  we  find  that  men  have  not 
separately  each  one  prepared  a  victim  for  himself;  they  have  agreed 


506  WILLIAM    STAUGHTON. 

in  bands  to  surround  a  common  altar,  and  to  join  in  mourning  and 
supplication,  or  in  hymns  of  thanksgiving  and  praise.  Sometimes 
a  family  composed  a  company  of  -worshipers,  and  sometimes  a  city ; 
but  in  the  history  of  the  Israelites  we  behold  a  whole  nation  uniting 
in  holy  solemnities.  Though,  on  their  leaving  Egypt,  the  people 
were  more  than  a  million  in  number,  they  had  but  one  tabernacle^ 
one  ark,  one  mercy-seat,  one  altar  for  burnt-offering,  and  one  high 
priest. 

The  tabernacle  first  used  among  the  Hebrews  appears  to  have  been 
reared  in  haste  by  Moses.  Perhaps  it  was  nothing  more  than  one 
of  his  own  tents.  It  came  to  pass,  nevertheless,  that  "  every  one 
who  sought  the  Lord  went  out"  to  this  tent,  probably  for  the  space 
of  a  year.  Hence  Moses  fitly  called  it  "  the  tabernacle  of  the  con- 
gregation." 

Afterward  the  larger  tabernacle,  the  workmanship  of  Bezaleel 
and  Aholiab,  was  set  up.  To  this  the  tribes  repaired,  not  only  while 
sojourners  in  the  desert,  but  after  their  settlement  in  the  land 
of  promise. 

At  length  King  David  conceived  the  design  of  building  a  house 
for  the  Lord.  He  had  already  testified  his  love  for  the  worship  of 
Jehovah,  by  having  a  new  tabernacle  raised  near  his  own  palace,  for 
the  reception  of  the  ark  on  its  removal  from  the  house  of  Obed- 
edom.  But  this  was  not  sufficient.  "  See  now,"  said  the  king  to 
Nathan,  "  I  dwell  in  an  house  of  cedar,  but  the  ark  of  God  dwelleth 
in  curtains."  "  Go,"  said  the  j)rophet,  "  and  do  all  that  is  in  thy 
heart."  The  king  was  on  the  point  of  proceeding  to  the  pleasing 
task,  when  he  learned  that  though  the  Lord  approved  his  purpose, 
the  work  should  be  reserved  for  Solomon,  his  son.  Soon  after  the 
pious  monarch  had  fallen  asleep  with  his  fathers,  the  young  prince 
"  built  the  house  and  finished  it." 

'■  Then  Solomon  assembled  the  elders  of  Israel  and  all  the  heads 
of  the  tribes,"  that  they  might  bring  the  ark  from  Zion  to  the  tem- 
ple. The  men  of  Israel  gathered  themselves  together  in  crowds  to 
join  the  solemnity.  When  the  priests  began  to  remove  the  ark,  the 
tabernacle  and  all  the  holy  vessels,  King  Solomon  and  all  the  con- 
gregation led  on  the  procession,  sacrificing,  as  they  went,  "  sheep 
and  oxen  that  could  not  be  told  or  numbered  for  multitude." 
As  soon  as  the  ark  was  brought  into  the  oracle  of  the  house, 
a  dark  cloud  filled  all  the  place.  The  people  were  struck  with 
horror,  and  the  terrified  priests  could  not  stand  to  minister.  Then 
spake  Solomon,  relieving  their  apprehensions  and  commencing  his 
prayer :  "  The  Lord  said  He  would  dwell  in  thick  darkness."     The 


GOD    DWELLING    AMONG    MEN.  507 

king  recounted  with  solemn  reverence  the  promises  that  God  bad 
made  and  fulfilled  for  liis  father  David  and  for  himself;  but,  as  he 
prayed,  his  devotions  were  suddenly  checked,  or  rather,  sublimely 
elevated  by  an  overpowering  sense  of  the  Divine  Majesty.  "  But 
will  God  indeed  dwell  on  the  earth  ?  Behold,  the  heaven  and  the 
heaven  of  heavens  can  not  contain  Thee ;  how  much  less  this  house 
that  I  have  builded ! " 

You,  brethren,  have  been  raising  this  house  and  setting  it  in 
order.  To-day  we  open  it  by  beginning  to  offer  up  the  incense  of 
prayer  before  the  throne.  To  day,  for  the  first  time,  from  this  pulpit 
salvation  through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  is  proclaimed — the  doors 
have  begun  to  be  crowded  with  worshipers,  and  the  walls  to 
ring  with  hymns  of  thanksgiving.  0  that  to-day,  in  this  place, 
sinners  may  be  converted  to  God  and  saints  receive  consolation 
and  establishment.  Great  God  of  assemblies !  bend  thy  heavens 
and  come  down  ;  here  make  the  horn  of  David  to  bud,  and  ordain 
a  lamp  for  thine  anointed ! — "  But  will  God  indeed  dwell  on  the 
earth  ?" 

We  adopt  for  ourselves  the  exclamation  of  Solomon.  Every 
word  is  full  of  meaning.  We  scarce  know  where  to  rest  our 
emphasis.  Will  Ood  dwell  on  the  earth !  It  would  create  our 
wonder  if  a  cherub  were  to  display  his  burning  glories  among  us,  but 
this  were  nothing ;  it  were  nothing  if  all  the  cherubim  that  wheel 
round  the  throne  of  light,  were  to  come  from  the  skies,  compared 
with  the  descent  of  the  eternal  God,  For  God  to  dwell  in  heaven 
does  not  so  much  excite  our  astonishment.  It  is  true  in  a  certain 
sense  the  angels  are  chargeable  with  folly,  and  the  heavens  are  un- 
clean in  His  sight ;  there  are,  however,  there,  none  dwelling  in 
houses  of  clay,  no  "  filthy  and  abominable"  beings  who  drink 
"  iniquity  like  water."  But  that  He  should  dwell  on  the  earth, 
seems  almost  beyond  belief.  AVill  He  indeed  dwell,  or  shall  it  be 
only  in  a  sense  improper  and  figurative !  Will  he  indeed  dwell,  or 
is  the  mercy  too  great  to  be  expected !  Divine  condescensions  often 
fill  the  hearts  of  good  men  with  holy  astonishment.  Thus  the  com- 
passion and  sovereignty  of  Christ  in  manifesting  Himself  to  His  dis- 
ciples and  not  to  the  world,  appeared  marveloiLS.  Lord,  how  is  it  ? 
When  Israel  was  delivered  from  captivity,  when  a  risen  Saviour  was 
announced  to  His  disciples,  they  were  like  men  that  dream,  they  be- 
lieved not  for  joy. 

The  devout  surprise  which  our  text  expresses,  leaves  it  implied, 
that  it  would  be  no  ground  of  wonder  if  God  would  not  make  His 
abode  with  us.     This  idea  will  receive  confirmation  on  our  contem- 


508  WILLIAM    STAUGHTON. 

plating  the  immensity,  the  loftiness,  the  independence,  the  lioliness,  and 
the  sovereignty  of  God. 

Solomon  at  the  dedication  seems  particularly  to  have  been  struck 
with  a  sense  of  the  Divine  immensity.  Behold,  the  heavens  and  the 
heaven  of  heavens  can  not  contain  Thee,  how  much  less  this  house 
that  I  have  builded !  God  had  promised  to  make  the  temple  His 
dwelling-place ;  but  here  was  the  wonder,  that  He  who  fills  the  uni- 
verse (and  who  for  this  reason  is  by  the  Jews  called  Makom  or 
space)  should  choose  a  frail  building  as  His  rest  forever.  The 
martyr  Stephen  exhibits  this  idea^  in  his  excellent  defense,  in  a  strong 
point  of  view.  "  Solomon  built  Him  a  house.  Howbeit  the  Most 
High  dwelleth  not  in  temples  made  with  hands ;  as  saith  the 
prophet,  heaven  is  My  throne  and  earth  is  My  footstool :  what  house 
will  ye  build  Me,  saith  the  Lord :  or  what  is  the  place  of  My  rest  ? 
Hath  not  My  hand  made  all  these  things  ?"  Solomon  felt  a  pleasure, 
perhaps  a  pride,  that  so  magnificient  a  temple  was  completed ;  but 
how  little  does  the  whole  appear  to  him  when  standing  in  the 
presence  of  Jehovah  !  What  was  the  house  he  had  built,  when  all 
the  heavens  are  but  a  throne  for  God,  and  all  the  earth  merely  a 
footstool !     Having  done  all,  we  are  still  uprofitable  servants. 

It  is  wonderful  that  God  should  dwell  with  man,  because  of  His 
loftiness.  From  the  smallest  particle  of  animated  matter  up  to  the 
first  archangel  in  glory,  there  appears,  through  all  the  order  of  be- 
ings a  gradation.  But  the  Lord  is  above  all,  He  is  the  High  God ; 
or,  as  He  is  often  called,  the  Most  High,  exalted  above  all  blessing 
and  praise.  Will  infinite  elevation  dwell  with  abject  worms?  the 
inhabitant  of  eternity  with  the  creatures  of  yesterday  ?  Many  a  phi- 
losopher of  both  ancient  and  modern  classes  has  declared  He  will 
not,  and  many  a  sinner  has  caught  the  sentiment,  and  used  it  for  his 
own  destruction,  "  The  Lord  shall  not  see,  neither  shall  the  God  of 
Jacob  regard  it." 

When  we  meditate  on  the  independence  of  Jehovah,  it  must  ap- 
pear wonderful  that  He  will  make  His  abode  with  us.  Our  happi- 
ness is  connected  with  society,  and,  together  with  our  being,  is  hourly 
dependent  on  God.  He  is  happy  alone  and  from  Himself.  He  pos- 
sessed infinite  blessedness  before  the  worlds  were  framed,  and  should 
earth  and  seas,  should  suns  and  stars,  should  mortals  and  seraphim 
be  struck  out  of  existence.  He  would  remain  the  ''blessed  God." 
The  vicissitudes  of  creation  no  more  affect  His  happiness,  than  a 
passing  cloud  below  disturbs  the  course  of  the  great  sun  through  the 
heavens.  He  is  not  to  be  worshiped  with  men's  hands,  as  though 
"  He  needed  any  thing."     "  Is  it  any  pleasure  to  the  Almighty  that 


GOD    DWELLING    AMONG    MEN.  509 

thou  art  righteous,  or  is  it  gain  to  Him  that  thou  makest  thy  way 
perfect?  Thy  wickedness  may  hurt  a  man  as  thou  art,  and  thy 
righteousness  may  profit  the  son  of  man,  but  can  man  be  profitable 
to  God  ?"  The  guilt  of  impious  men  can  no  more  shake  the  Divine 
throne,  than  the  purity  of  saints  can  establish  it.  He  possesses  none 
of  those  motives  to  seek  society,  arising  from  want,  interest,  and  grat- 
ification, which  operate  with  us.     He  inhabits  His  own  eternity ! 

That  God  should  dwell  on  the  earth  appears  the  more  surprising 
when  we  contemplate  His  holiness.  In  this  perfection  He  is  greatly 
glorious.  He  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  iniquity  without  ab- 
horrence. Into  heaven,  the  habitation  of  His  holiness,  there  shall  in 
no  wise  enter  any  thing  that  defileth,  neither  whatsoever  worketh 
abomination,  or  maketh  a  lie.  One  of  the  solemn  anthems  of  heaven 
is  holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  God  Almighty.  But  what  are  we, 
what  the  whole  human  race?  Conceived,  alas,  in  sin,  and  shapen 
in  iniquity,  we  have  gone  astray  from  the  womb.  David  drew  the 
likeness  of  man  in  his  day  ;  Paul,  struck  with  its  correctness,  again 
exhibited  it ;  and  a  momentary  comparison  of  features  will  convince 
us  that  it  resembles  man  in  the  present  age,  as  much  as  it  could  have 
done  in  ages  past.  Jews  and  Gentiles  are  "  all  under  sin :  as  it  is  writ- 
ten. There  is  none  righteous,  no,  not  one :  there  is  none  that  under- 
standeth,  there  is  none  that  seeketh  after  God.  They  are  all  gone 
out  of  the  way,  they  are  together  become  unprofitable ;  there  is  none 
that  doeth  good,  no,  not  one.  Their  throat  is  an  open  sepulcher ; 
with  their  tongues  they  have  used  deceit ;  the  poison  of  asps  is  under 
their  lips :  whose  mouth  is  full  of  cursing  and  bitterness :  their  feet 
are  swift  to  shed  blood :  destruction  and  misery  are  in  their  ways ; 
and  the  way  of  peace  have  they  not  known  :  there  is  no  fear  of  God 
before  their  eyes." 

Eeview  these  sad  outlines.  They  teach  us  that  the  powers  of 
the  mind  are  depraved ;  there  is  none  that  understandeth,  the  path 
of  duty  is  abandoned  ;  they  are  all  gone  out  of  the  way,  the  excel- 
lences of  Jehovah  have  no  attractions,  there  is  none  that  seeketh 
after  God  ;  the  members  of  the  body  are  instruments  of  unrighteous- 
ness ;  the  insatiate  desires  of  the  drunkard  and  the  glutton  testify- 
that  their  throat  is  an  open  sepulcher;  the  perjured  person  and  the 
liar  are  with  their  tongues  using  deceit,  and  the  poison  of  asps  is 
under  the  lips  of  the  flatterer  and  the  slanderer.  What  multitudes 
are  there  among  all  ranks  of  society  who  are  using  language  at  which 
a  demon  might  shudder.  With  how  little  emotion  is  damnation  in- 
voked on  their  eyes  and  their  limbs,  their  bodies  and  their  souls. 
The  mouth  of  many  seems  so  full  of  cursing,  that  they  can  scarcely 


510  WILLIAM    STAUGHTON. 

speak  on  tlie  most  trivial  occurrences  without  an  oatli  incorporated 
witli  every  sentence.  The  feet  of  men,  in  all  ages  have  been  swift 
to  shed  blood.  The  first  child  that  was  born  into  the  world  was  a 
murderer ;  and  almost  every  page  of  history,  when  it  does  not  lead 
us  into  the  ensanguined  field,  consists  of  inferences  from  battles 
fought,  or  j)reludes  to  some  new  catastrophe.  Thousands  are  de- 
stroyers of  men  by  profession,  and  so  swift,  so  prompt  to  shed  blood 
are  heroes  and  nations,  that  circumstances  the  most  insignificant  are 
commonly  laid  hold  of,  and  amplified  into  grounds  of  dissension  and 
slaughter.  Whatever  difference  may  subsist  among  men  as  to  the 
degree  of  their  iniquity,  there  is  none  righteous,  no,  not  one.  And 
will  God  indeed  dwell  upon  the  earth  ?  It  were  reasonable  to  con- 
clude He  will  not,  or  that  if  He  should,  having  whet  His  glittering 
sword.  His  hand  would  take  hold  on  judgment  and  render  rec- 
ompense. 

But,  further,  reflect,  brethren,  a  moment  on  the  Divine  sovereignty. 
The  moral  law  is  binding  alike  on  angels  and  men.  Many  of  the 
former  class  of  beings,  and,  as  we  have  just  shown,  all  of  the  lat- 
ter, have  violated  its  precepts.  It  is  a  righteous  thing  with  God  to 
render  tribulation  and  anguish  to  the  transgressor.  Having  uttered 
the  threatening,  either  on  the  sinner,  or  on  a  substitute,  the  penalty 
must  descend,  or  the  Divine  faithfulness  must  fail.  The  angels 
which  kept  not  their  first  estate  He  hath  reserved  in  everlasting  chains 
under  darkness,  unto  the  judgment  of  the  great  day.  Since,  hke 
them  we  have  sinned,  what  reason  can  we  assign  why,  with  them, 
we  should  not  suffer  ?  It  is  of  the  Lord's  mercies  that  we  are  not 
consumed  at  the  present  hour.  If  it  be  right  that  God  attach  a  pen- 
alty to  His  law,  it  can  not  be  wrong  that  He  exact  it.  His  character 
as  Governor  of  the  universe  demands  the  measure,  and  who  can  say 
whether  His  wisdom  will  contrive,  His  arm  accomplish,  or  His  sov- 
ereignty accept  a  jDlan  for  the  deliverance  of  His  rebellious  creatures. 

Great,  however,  as  are  the  difiiculties  which  arise  in  the  mind 
when  we  associate  the  ideas  of  God's  immensity  and  our  locality ;  His 
loftiness  and  our  meanness ;  His  independence  and  our  subjection ; 
His  holiness  and  our  defilement ;  His  sovereignty  and  our  deserts ; 
be  astonished,  0  earth !  break  forth  into  singing,  ye  mountains — ^the 
Holy  Word  gives  an  affirmative  answer  to  the  inquiry  in  the  text. 

AYe  wish  not  to  derive  our  illustrations  of  this  truth  merely  from 
the  operations  of  providence.  When  we  behold  Him  walking  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind,  or  planting  His  footsteps  in  the  mighty 
waters  ;  when  He  shakes  down  towers  with  His  earthquakes  ;  when 
He  utters  His  voice  in  thunder,  or  loads  the  air  with  pestilence ; 


GOD    DWELLING    AMONG    MEN.  511 

wlieii  He  touches  the  hills  and  they  smoke,  becoming  sudden  vol- 
canoes, or  when  we  see  Him  clothing  the  lilies  of  the  field,  and  feed- 
ing the  fowls  of  the  air,  we  possess  proofs  that  He  is  not  far  from 
every  one  of  us  ;  but,  the  condescension  to  which  our  text  refers,  re- 
lates immediately  to  the  operations  of  His  grace,  such  particularly  as 
are  exhibited, 

I.  In  the  coming  of  Christ  into  the  world  ; 

II.  In  the  residence  of  His  Spirit  in  the  heart;  and, 

III.  In  the  presence  of  God  in  His  churches. 

I.  We  have  ample  evidence  that  God  will  dwell  with  man  in 
the  coming  of  Christ  into  the  ivorld.  "The  word  was  made  flesh," 
said  John,  "  and  dwelt  among  us,  and  we  beheld  His  glory,  the  glory 
as  of  the  only-begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth."  We 
can  not  assent  to  the  creed  of  sach  as  regard  our  Lord  Jesus  as  a 
mere  man,  or  to  that  of  those  who  consider  Him  only  a  created 
being,  while  they  admit  He  is  above  the  highest  angels.  K  Jesus 
Christ  be  not  the  true  God  and  eternal  life,  would  the  Holy  Spirit 
have  inspired  the  writers  of  the  Bible  to  have  recorded  as  many  and 
such  pertinent  texts,  which  a  plain  understanding  must  accept  as 
demonstrations  of  His  divinity,  and  which  require  all  the  subtility 
of  criticism  to  induce  a  doubt  as  to  their  meaning  ?  We  are  re- 
duced to  the  alternative  to  acknowledge,  either  that  Christ  is  a  di- 
vine person,  or  that  the  language  of  Scripture  is  unguarded  and 
deceptive ;  an  idea  which  every  good  man  will  reject  with  abhor- 
rence. God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh  ;  for  Christ  is  God.  His  name 
is  Immanuel,  God  with  us. 

Of  His  dignity  and  of  His  presence  the  heavens  gave  testimony. 
A  new  star  traversed  the  sky  at  His  incarnation,  and  at  His  crucifix- 
ion for  three  hours  the  sun  was  extinguished.  The  winds  and  seas 
gave  testimony,  when  at  His  word  the  furious  blasts  were  hushed, 
and  the  rough  surges  smoothed  into  a  great  calm ;  at  the  same  word 
the  inhabitants  of  the  waters  crowded  round  the  ship  and  filled  the 
net  of  the  astonished  and  worshiping  disciples.  The  earth  gave  tes- 
timony :  at  His  death  and  at  His  resurrection  it  trembled  to  its  cen- 
ter. Diseases  gave  testimony  :  fevers  were  rebuked  ;  issues  of  blood 
were  stanched ;  the  blind  saw  their  deliverer ;  the  deaf  heard  His 
voice  ;  the  dumb  published  His  character  ;  paralytics  arose  and  fol- 
lowed Him,  and  lepers,  at  His  command,  hastened  to  the  priests  and 
were  healed  as  they  traveled.  The  grave  gave  testimony,  when 
Lazarus  came  forth  in  the  garb  of  its  dominions,  and  when  many  of 
the  bodies  of  the  saints  that  slept  arose.  The  invisible  world  gave 
testimony  :  devils  acknowledged  His  divinity,  and  flew  from  His 


512  WILLIAM    STAUGHTON. 

presence  to  the  abodes  of  perdition ;  angels  ministered  unto  Him  in 
the  desert,  the  garden,  and  the  tomb.  One  of  them,  as  if  to  exhibit  an 
emblem  of  the  virtues  of  the  Saviour,  often  descended  into  Bethesda 
and  imparted  to  the  waters  a  healing  power.  A  multitude  sang  an 
anthem  in  the  air  in  the  hearing  of  the  shepherds,  and  as  our  risen 
Lord  ascended  up  to  glory,  they  accompanied  His  flight  with  the 
sound  of  trumpet  and  the  shouts  of  triumph. 

But,  Oh !  my  brethren,  how  glorious  the  purposes  He  came  to 
execute,  "  To  finish  transgression,  to  make  an  end  of  sin,  and  to 
make  reconciliation  for  iniquity,  and  to  bring  in  everlasting  right- 
eousness, and  to  seal  up  the  vision  and  prophecy,  and  to  anoint  the 
Most  Holy." 

II.  God  is  found  dwelling  on  the  earth  hy  His  Spirit  in  the  heart. 
The  Holy  Spirit,  the  third  person  in  the  mysterious  Trinity,  is  no 
less  properly  God  than  the  Father  or  the  Son.  His  names.  His  at- 
tributes, and  His  works  prove  His  divinity.  God  gave  this  promise 
to  the  Hebrews,  "  I  will  set  My  tabernacle  among  you,  and  I  will 
walk  among  you,  and  will  be  your  God,  and  ye  shall  be  My  people.' ' 
The  apostle  guides  our  eye  to  its  accomplishment,  where  he  says, 
"  We  are  the  temple  of  the  living  God ;  as  God  hath  said,  I  will 
dwell  in  them  and  walk  in  them."  Paul  had  conveyed  the  same  idea 
in  a  prior  epistle  to  the  Corinthian  Church.  "  Know  ye  not  that  ye 
are  the  temple  of  God,  and  that  the  Spirit  of  God  dwelleth  in  you ; 
the  temple  of  God  is  holy,  which  temple  are  ye."  The  heart  of  man, 
by  nature,  is  a  fortress  of  Satan,  a  den  of  thieves,  deceitful  above  all 
things,  and  desperately  wicked.  In  regeneration,  when  the  Holy 
Spirit  makes  His  entry,  the  strong  man  armed  is  driven  from  the  seat 
he  has  usurped,  and  a  war  commences  between  corrupt  affections  and 
the  holy  nature  which  the  new  birth  produces.  Possessed  of  the 
soul,  the  Spirit  proceeds  to  work  in  us  to  will  and  to  do  of  His  own 
good  pleasure.  He  teaches  us  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin,  and 
influences  to  deep  repentance,  holy  caution  and  habitual  mortifica- 
tion. He  teaches  us  our  need  of  salvation,  and  then  takes  of  the 
things  of  Christ  and  shows  them  to  us.  The  soul  is  filled  with  un- 
utterable transport,  surprise  and  gratitude,  on  finding  itself  at  the 
margin  of  a  fountain  open  for  sin  and  for  uncleanness.  The  same 
spirit  helps  our  infirmities,  promotes  our  conformity  to  Christ,  enables 
us  to  cry,  Abba,  Father,  seals  us  to  the  day  of  redemption  and  be- 
comes Himself  the  earnest  of  a  heavenly  inheritance.  The  stay  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  on  this  earth  was  short.  When  a  little  more  than 
thirty  years  were  expired.  He  led  out  His  disciples  as  far  as  Bethany 
and  while  blessing  them.  He  was  parted  from  them  and  carried  up 


GOD    DWELLING    AMONG    MEN.  513 

into  heaven  ;  but  tlie  Comforter  is  to  abide  with  the  saints  forever. 
He  shall  ascend  not  before  them,  but  with  them  to  glory. 

Think  it  not  strange  that  God  the  Spirit  should  possess  a  distinct 
habitation  in  the  heart  of  every  believer.  The  same  voice,  like  the 
voice  of  God  from  Mount  Sinai,  may  distinctly  enter  a  million  of 
ears.  Place  before  the  sun  as  many  mirrors  as  the  earth  could  fur- 
nish, an  image  of  the  sun  would  appear  in  every  mirror;  but,  sup- 
posing no  illustration  could  be  derived  from  nature,  experience 
demonstrates  the  truth.  To  this  test  the  apostle  refers,  where  he 
says,  "  Ye  are  not  in  the  flesh  but  in  the  Spirit,  if  so  be,  the  Spirit  of 
God  dwell  in  you ;  now  if  any  man  have  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  he 
is  none  of  His ;  and  if  Christ  be  in  you,  the  body  is  dead  because  of 
sin  ;  but  the  Spirit  is  life  because  of  righteousness." 

ni.  We  have  evidence  that  God  will  dwell  with  men  upon  the 
earth,  in  the  display  of  His  gracious  jpresence  in  His  Churches.  He 
said  to  Israel,  "  In  all  places  where  I  record  My  name,  I  will  come 
unto  thee  and  I  will  bless  thee,"  and  in  language  very  similar  our 
Lord  addressed  His  disciples :  "  Where  two  or  three  are  gathered 
together  in  My  name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them.  I  will  not 
leave  you  comfortless,  I  will  come  unto  you." 

David  declares  he  has  beheld  the  glory  of  Jehovah  in  his  tab- 
ernacle, and  may  I  not  add,  so  have  we.  Have  we  not  seen  it  in 
the  ministers  of  the  sanctuary,  when  engaged  in  solemn  ]3rayer  ? 
How  like  Moses  have  they  ascended  the  hill  of  the  Lord,  in  pres- 
ence of  all  the  people  !  What  a  holy  flow  of  adoration,  petitions, 
and  thanksgivings  have  we  sometimes  witnessed?  Have  we  not 
seen  it  in  the  ministration  of  the  word?  With  what  boldness  and 
readiness  of  mind,  with  what  depth  of  argument  and  persuasive 
energy,  with  what  ardent  zeal  and  heavenly  unction,  have  we  often 
heard  His  servants  deliver  their  message  !  The  sound  of  their  Mas- 
ter's feet  behind  them,  while  it  revives  the  sense  of  their  awful 
responsibility,  gives  courage  to  the  heart,  and  inspires  that  eloquence 
in  proclaiming  the  terrors  of  Sinai  and  the  consolations  of  Calvary, 
which  the  schools  could  never  have  taught.  The  effects  attending 
the  word  bespeak  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  It  is  God  that  giveth 
the  increase.  "  If  there  come  in  one  that  believeth  not,  or  one  un- 
learned, he  is  convinced,  he  is  judged,  and  thus  are  the  secrets  of 
his  heart  made  manifest,  and  so  falling  down  on  his  flice,  he  will 
worship  God,  and  report  that  God  is  in  you  of  a  truth."  The  cry 
of  converts  when  seeking  access  to  the  Church  and  its  ordinances 
is,  We  will  go  with  you,  for  we  have  heard  that  God  is  with  you. 
We  have  indications  of  His  presence  when  Asaphs  are  instructed  in 

33 


514  "WILLIAM    STAUGHTON. 

the  rectitude  of  providence,  wlien  Epbraims  are  mourning  over  their 
backslidings,  and  when  Simeons,  having  seen  the  salvation  of  God, 
are  longing  to  depart  in  peace,  from  earth  to  heaven. 

God  will  dwell  in  His  churches — He  hath  said,  "Lo,  I  am  with 
you  always,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."  The  Church,  it  is  true, 
is  in  the  wilderness,  and  a  thousand  savage  beasts  of  prey  stand  wait- 
ing to  devour ;  but  the  Lord  is  a  wall  of  fire  around  her,  through 
which  they  can  not  pass.  Zion  is  His  rest  forever.  The  malice  of 
earth  and  hell  can  no  more  succeed  in  destroying  the  Church, 
His  dwelling-place  below,  than  in  demolishing  the  heavens.  His 
dwelling-place  above ;  and  for  this  obvious  reason,  "  The  Lord  is 
there." 

There  are  objects  in  the  natural  world  whose  presence  brings  bless- 
ings with  them.  Whenever  the  broad  river  winds  its  course,  its  banks 
become  fertile  and  its  contiguous  cities,  seats  of  commerce.  The  ap- 
pearance of  the  sun  cheers  the  face  of  nature,  and  the  possession  of 
a  shield  is  a  security  to  the  warrior  against  the  weapons  of  his  adver- 
saries. Under  such  animating  figures,  David  sets  forth  the  advan- 
tages of  the  Divine  presence  in  His  churches.  "  There  is  a  river,  the 
streams  whereof  make  glad  the  city  of  our  God.  The  Lord  God  is 
a  sun  and  shield,  the  Lord  will  give  grace  and  glory,  and  no  good 
thing  will  He  withhold  from  them  that  walk  njDrightly."  His  pres- 
ence is  like  that  of  the  good  shepherd  in  the  midst  of  his  flock,  or 
of  the  affectionate  father  in  the  midst  of  his  happy  family. 

Does  it,  my  brethren,  from  what  you  have  heard,  appear  a  truth 
that  God  WILL  dwell  with  man  upon  the  earth,  permit  me  to  ex- 
hort you  never  to  lose  sight  of  this  astonishing  condescension.  Not 
less  in  the  stoops  of  His  mercy,  than  in  the  sublimities  of  His  na- 
ture, does  Jehovah  shine  without  a  rival.  Historians  have  dwelt 
on  the  resignation  of  Charles  V.,  the  emperor  of  Germany,  as  an 
event  scarcely  paralleled  in  the  annals  of  ages.  That  a  prince  whose 
ruling  passion  had  been  uniformly  the  love  of  power,  at  the  age  of 
fifty-six,  when  objects  of  ambition  operate  with  full  force  on  the 
mind,  who  during  half  a  century  had  alarmed  and  agitated  Europe, 
filling  every  kingdom  in  it,  by  turns,  with  the  terror  of  his  arms, 
and  who  was  then  in  possession  of  all  the  honors  which  can  flatter 
the  heart  of  man,  should  suddenly  abandon  his  throne,  pass  into 
the  shades  of  an  obscure  retirement,  and  there  dwell  among  a  few 
servants,  was  every  where  a  matter  of  wonder  and  surprise.  But, 
compared  with  the  Lord's  bowing  the  heavens,  this  is  less  than 
nothing. 


GOD    DWELLING    AMONG    MEN.  515 

"  Iq  vain  might  lofty  princes  try 

Such  condescension  to  perform ; 
For  worms  were  never  raised  so  high 
Above  their  meanest  fellow  worm  I" 
***** 

Raise,  too,  your  contemplations,  tliis  morning,  to  tliat  state  of 
perfect  blessedness  which  is  before  you.     In  their  nature  and  in 
their  source,  the  joys  of  saints  in  heaven  and  saints  on  earth  are  the 
same ;  but,  in  numerous  circumstances  they  widely  differ.     When 
we  meet  in  His  sanctuary  now,  the  assembly  is  mixed.     He  that 
feareth  God  and  he  that  feareth  Him  not,  sit  and  hear,  and  sing 
together ;  but  in  the  mansions  above,  the  people  will  be  all  holy. 
Here,  in  their  happiest  moments,  the  saints  find  a  sinful  nature  de-: 
filing  their  purest  services ;  so  that,  the  brighter  their  discoveries 
of  the  Divine  glory,  like  Isaiah  and  Job,  the  more  they  deplore 
their  uncleanness  and  abhor  themselves.     But  then,  not  the  least 
taint  of  moral  defilement  shall  remain ;  their  hearts,  as  well  as  their 
garments,  shall  be  without  spot  or  wrinkle  or  any  such  thing.     In 
our  present  worship,  we  assemble  only  with  a,  few  of  God's  people. 
Though  the  iron  rod  of  persecution  does  not  scatter  us  as  it  did 
our  forefathers,  and  limit  our  devotions  to  the  private  parlor   or 
the  prison-house,  yet  the  conveniences  of  our  habitations  and  the 
requirements  of  animal  life,  render  the  congregations  of  the  saints 
but  little  flocks.     Eras  keep  us  asunder,  we  can  not  walk  with 
God  in  company  with  Enoch;  nor  join  with  David  in  procession  to 
the  tabernacle  :  we  can  not  unite  with  the  apostles  in  their  prayers 
in  the  upper  room  in  Jerusalem,  or  accompany  the  strains  of  the 
martyrs  who   sung  their  hosannas   as   they  embraced   the   stake. 
Place  divides  us  from  each  other.     "We  know  that  Divine  worship  is 
paid  to  the  Lord  by  thousands  in  Europe,  and  that  Asia  and  Africa 
are  laying  their  tribute  at  His  feet ;  but,  long  intervening  tracts  of 
land  and  sea  forbid  our  uniting  with  their  assemblies.     Variety  of 
religious  sentiment,  too,  gives  rise  to  different  congregations :  for,  as 
yet  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  and  know  only  in  part,  and 
prophecy  only  in  part.     But  in  heaven,  the  assembly  shall  consist 
of  multitudes  that  no  man  can  number.     All  that  have  loved  the 
Saviour  shall  form  one  glorious  band.     There  an  Abraham  and  an 
Owen,  a  Watts  and  a  David,  a  Pearce  and  a  John,  a  Daniel  and  a 
Henry — there  the  Hindoo  and  the  American,  the  European  and  the 
Negro,  the  Hottentot  and  the  Greenlander — there   the    Methodist 
and  Episcopalian,  the  Presbyterian  and  the  Baptist  shall,  with  hearts 
and  with  voices  forever  united,  sing.  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was 
slain  ! 


DISCOURSE  SEVENTY-SIXTH. 

GREGORY    T.     BEDELL,    D.  D. 

This  eloquent  Episcopal  divine  was  born  on  Staten  Island,  the  28tli 
of  October,  1*793.  He  received  his  early  academic  education  at  Cheshire, 
in  Connecticut,  and  graduated  at  Columbia  College,  New  York  city. 
In  1811  he  commenced  his  preparation  for  holy  orders,  imder  the 
direction  of  Dr.  Hoav,  one  of  the  assistant  ministers  of  Trmity  Church, 
N.  Y.,  and  was  ordained  deacon  by  Bishop  Hobart,  in  November,  1814^ 

His  first  pastoral  charge  was  at  Hudson,  on  the  North  Kiver,  where 
he  settled  in  1815,  and  where  his  jjopularity  as  a  preacher  was  very  great. 
In  1818  he  was  instituted  as  the  rector  of  the  Episcoj)al  church  m  Fayette- 
ville,  N.  C,  at  which  place  his  ministry  was  distinguished  for  its  evan- 
gelical character  and  for  its  successful  results.  Three  years  and  a  half 
from  his  settlement  here,  he  was  compelled  to  remove,  fi-om  ill  health ; 
when  he  visited  Philadelphia,  and  became  rector  of  St.  Andrew's  church, 
which  position  he  filled  with  eminent  success  tUl  the  time  of  his  death,  in 
August,  1834.     His  memoir  has  been  written  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tyng. 

As  a  preacher.  Dr.  Bedell  was  highly  evangehcal,  habitually  dwelling 
upon  the  great  truths  of  redemption  through  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
He  was  remarkable  for  the  simplicity  of  his  style  and  manner,  and  for 
the  beauty  of  his  oratory.  By  those  best  qualified  to  judge,  he  was 
pronounced  a  model  of  chaste,  dignified,  impressive  elocution.  He  was 
often  earnest  and  solemn,  and  held  such  a  command  over  his  large 
audiences  as  to  cause  a  breathless  sUence,  and  enchain  the  attention 
of  even  the  most  careless  and  indifferent,  ComiDaratively  few  of  Dr. 
Bedell's  sermons  were  written  out  in  full.  Only  some  thirty  have  been 
given  to  the  public.  That  here  given  is  the  last  of  a  series  on  the  same 
text,  and  a  single  allusion  to  the  precedmg  discourse  is  left  out.  The 
discourse  has  several  passages  of  great  beauty  and  force  of  expression. 


THE  SUBLIME  ISSUE  OF  THE  WOEK  OF  EELIGION. 

"  Aad  I  sent  messengers  unto  tliem,  saying,  I  am  doing  a  great  work,  so  that  I  can 
not  come  down :  why  should  the  work  cease,  whilst  I  leave  it,  and  come  down  to  you  ?" 
— ^Nehemiah,  vi.  3. 

The  end  of  our  faith,  says  the  apostle,  is  the  salvation  of  the 
soul.     And  the  end,  or  issue  of  the  great  work  of  personal  religion, 


THE  SUBLIME  ISSUE   OP  THE  WORK  OP  RELIGION.    517 

whicli  is  the  production  of  faith,  is  precisely  tlie  same — the  ever- 
lasting felicity  of  heaven. 

It  is  the  issue  of  a  work  which  decides  its  relative  importance, 
even  in  all  earthly  things.  That  is  a  work  of  nobler  conception,  and 
of  more  splendM  achievement,  which  issues  in  some  grand  benefit 
to  the  human  family,  than  that  which  issues  in  the  establishment  of 
an  individual's  prosperity  or  honor.  Eobert  Eaikes  was  a  greater 
man  than  Alexander  or  Napoleon  ;  and  the  Sunday-school  system, 
which  has  been  reared  on  the  foundation  which,  in  the  providence  of 
God,  Raikes  was  permitted  to  lay,  is  a  work  which  far  outweighs  in 
grandeur  all  the  achievements  at  which  Alexander  or  Napoleon  ever 
labored.  And  thus,  what  they  were  desirous  of  accomplishing  for 
themselves,  and  have  failed  in  the  attempt,  he  has,  under  God,  ac- 
complished for  himself. 

I  have  stated  that  the  issue  of  the  work  of  religion  is  the  eternal 
blessedness  of  heaven,  and  this  constitutes  the  greatness  of  the  work. 
In  the  present  discourse,  my  purpose  is  to  show  this  from  the  in- 
trinsic nature  of  the  happiness  of  heaven.  And  yet,  on  the  very 
threshold  of  this  discussion,  I  am  met  with  a  difficulty  which  it  would 
seem  must,  of  necessity,  embarrass,  if  not  stay,  my  progress.  How 
am  I  to  give  you  any  information  as  to  the  intrinsic  character  of  the 
happiness  of  heaven  ?  Is  not  this  something  beyond  the  conception 
of  man  ?  Are  we  told  sufficiently  about  it  in  the  Scriptures  to 
authorize  speculation?  Is  there  any  thing  beyond  a  glimpse?  I 
am  aware  that  the*  apostle  said,  "  Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons 
of  God  ;  and  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be ;  but  we  know 
that,  when  He  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  Him ;  for  we  shall  see 
Him  as  He  is."  And  I  am  aware  that  God,  in  His  infinite  wisdom, 
has  not  let  us  into  the  secret  of  those  delights  which  make  up  the 
eternal  felicity  of  the  saints  in  light,  in  their  inheritance,  incorrupt- 
ible, undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not  away.  I  am  aware  of  all  this, 
and  it  gives  me  a  timely  admonition  to  place  a  rein  on  my  imagina- 
tion, lest  I  darken  counsel  by  words  without  knowledge.  There 
appears  to  me  no  way  to  discuss  the  nature  of  the  happiness 
of  heaven,  but  to  determine  to  go  no  further  than  the  Scripture  has 
gone  ;  to  stretch  the  raptured  vision  as  far  as  the  horizon  which  the 
revelation  of  God  has  established ;  contentedly  to  stop  where  Scrip- 
ture stops,  and  to  wait  till  the  time  when  all  else  shall  be  revealed  in 
the  light  of  eternity  itself. 

In  order  that  I  may  be  reined  in,  and  curbed,  and  kept  within 
bounds,  I  purpose  to  place  between  myself  and  you,  certain  great 
outlines  furnished  by  the  Scriptures.     We  may  probably  get  some 


518  GREGORY    T.    BEDELL. 

idea  of  the  subject  from  considering  heaven  in  these  three  striking 
aspects ;  First^  as  to  its  society  ;  Secondly^  as  to  its  business ;  and 
Thirdly,  as  to  its  enjoyments. 

I  shall  probably  be  compelled  to  run  the  last  two  divisions  into 
one,  because  the  business  of  heaven  is  its  happiness*  between  them 
there  is,  and  can  be,  no  correct  distinction.  Eemember  that  I  state 
the  greatness  of  the  work  of  religion  from  the  reward  into  which  it 
issues,  the  eternal  happiness  of  heaven.  What  is  the  nature  of  its 
happiness  ?     Judge  ye. 

I.  From  its  society,  "Who  are  they  ?  Who  are  to  be  the  inhab- 
itants of  heaven  ? 

I  shall  be  considered,  probably,  as  uttering  but  a  very  trite  ob- 
servation, when  I  say  that  man  is  a  social  being,  that  society  forms 
the  basis  of  his  earthly  happiness.  Give  a  man  the  presence  of  the 
friends  whom  he  loves,  and,  humanly  speaking,  he  can  be  happy 
any  where  and  every  where,  Siberia's  snows  or  Africa's  sands  are 
no  insuperable  barrier  to  his  enjoyment.  But  deprive  him  of  societj^, 
and  a  palace  of  gold  and  luxuries  untold  will  but  aggravate  a 
misery  which  nothing  save  social  enjoyment  can  prevent.  It  was  a 
most  impressive  idea  of  a  poet,  when  he  attempted  to  tell  the  feel- 
ings of  the  last  man.  He  supposes  one  man  left,  when  all  the  rest 
of  human  kind  and  of  animal  nature  had  been  withered  up.  The 
poignancy  of  that  man's  feelings  was  not  that  he  stood  among  the 
ruins  of  a  world,  but  that  he  stood  alone.  And  I  can  not  imagine 
of  happiness,  even  in  heaven,  apart  from  its  society.  But  here  the 
question  comes  back,  What  constitutes  the  society  of  heaven  ?  There 
is  a  possibility  of  ascertaining  this  with  the  clearest  demonstration. 
Let  me  set  you  upon  a  train  of  investigation  which  can  not  fail  to 
lead  you  to  an  accurate  and  most  infinitely  important  conclusion. 
Hear  what  our  Saviour  saj^s,  "  Except  a  man  be  born  again  he  can 
not  see  the  kingdom  of  God."  "  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He 
gave  His  only -begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  on  Him  should 
not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  "  He  that  hath  the  Son  hath 
life  ;  and  he  that  hath  not  the  Sou  jof  God  hath  not  life,"  "  Except 
ye  be  converted,  and  become  as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  "  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life  : 
he  that  believeth  on  Me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live." 
Form  the  arguments  made  up  in  these  quotations.  Who  are  in 
heaven  ?  Those  who  repent,  and  are  converted,  and  believe  the 
Gospel ;  the  heart-changed  disciples  of  the  crucified  yet  risen  Sav- 
iour. Now  see  if  the  apostles  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  bear  their 
testimony  to  the  same  thing.     "  AYho  are  these  that  are  arrayed  in 


THE   SUBLIME  ISSUE  OP  THE  WORK  OP  RELIGION.    519 

white  robes  ?  and  whence  come  they  ?  And  I  said  nnto  him,  Sir, 
thou  knowest.  And  he  said  unto  me,  These  are  they  which  came 
out  of  great  tribulation,  and  have  washed  their  robes,  and  made 
them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb."  "  To  him  that  overcometh 
will  I  give  to  eat  of  the  tree  of  life,  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the 
paradise  of  God."  "  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give 
thee  a  crown  of  life."  One  portion  of  the  society  of  heaven,  there- 
fore, is  formed  of  what  is  called  the  Church  triumphant.  St.  Paul 
tells  us — "  But  ye  are  come  to  Mount  Zion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the 
living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  angels,  to  the  general  assembly  and  Church  of  the  first- 
born, which  are  written  in  heaven,  and  to  God  the  Judge  of  all,  and 
to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  to  Jesus,  the  Mediator 
of  the  new  covenant,  and  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  that  speaketh 
better  things  than  that  of  Abel." 

What  a  glorious  society  !  Innumerable  company  of  angels, 
archangels,  cherubim,  seraphim !  '  Thousands  of  thousands  minis- 
tered unto  Him,  and  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  stood  before 
Him.  This  is  a  part  of  the  society.  The  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect ;  believers  made  perfect ;  their  labors  finished ;  their  trials 
over ;  their  race  run ;  the  goal  reached ;  the  prize  obtained ;  the 
crown  won  ;  the  general  assembly  and  Church  of  the  first-born. 

What  a  glorious  society !  Saints  who  have  served  the  Lord  dur- 
ing every  successive  period  of  the  world,  from  righteous  Abel  to  the 
very  last  of  those  who,  when  the  Lord  shall  come  a  second  time, 
shall  be  caught  up  to  meet  Him  in  the  air,  and  so  to  be  ever  with 
the  Lord.  There  is  a  degree  of  melancholy  grandeur  in  the  idea  of 
a  heathen  of  old,  who,  amid  all  the  darkness,  and  ignorance,  and 
superstition  in  which  he  lived,  could  compose  his  mind  to  death  in 
the  supposition  that,  in  the  Elysian  fields  of  his  mythology,  he 
should  meet  with  Plato,  and  with  Socrates,  and  with  Homer,  and 
with  Hesiod,  and  a  host  of  other  illustrious  worthies,  and  spend  his 
eternity  with  them  in  a  philosophy  refined  from  the  grossness  of 
earth.  Miserable  comfort !  his  Elysian  fields  were  fables,  not  even 
cunningly  devised.  "  But  we  know  that  if  our  earthly  house  of 
this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we  have  a  building  of  God,  a  house 
not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens ;"  and  in  those  man- 
sions of  eternal  glory  are  to  be  found  the  martyred  Abel ;  that  pat- 
riarch who  walked  with  God,  and  was  translated  without  tasting 
death ;  that  father  of  the  faithful,  Abraham,  with  Isaac  and  Jacob, 
Moses,  Joshua,  prophets,  priests,  and  kings,  apostles,  martyrs,  and 
innumerable  servants  of  the  Lord  less  distinguished ;  thousands  of 


520  GREGORY    T.    BEDELL. 

thousands,  gatliered  out  of  every  tribe,  and  kindred,  and  people,  and 
from  every  age  and  generation  of  the  world. 

It  is  well  that  there  is  an  interposing  vail  to  hide  the  fullness  of 
this  gloried  society  from  our  view  ;  the  sight,  next  to  the  vision  of 
the  Omnipotent  and  Eternal,  would  be  too  bright  to  look  upon. 
And  yet  this  society,  this  communion  of  saints,  is  thrown  entirely 
into  the  shade,  as  we  advance  further  and  further,  with  the  sacred 
Scriptures  for  our  guide.  Tax  your  imagination  longer.  Let  me 
pass,  ye  prophets,  ye  apostles,  ye  martyrs  !  A  greater  than  you  all  is 
yet  to  be  discovered  !  That  society  is  blessed  with  the  peculiar  pres- 
ence of  the  great  God  Himself.  It  is  there  that  His  throne  is  fixed, 
"  Behold  the  tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men,  and  He  will  dwell  with 
them,  and  they  shall  be  His  people,  and  God  Himself  shall  be  with 
them,  and  be  their  God.  And  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from 
their  eyes ;  and  there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor 
crying,  neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain :  for  the  former  things 
have  passed  away.  And  He  that  sat  upon  the  throne  said,  Behold 
I  make  all  things  new.  And  He  said  unto  me,  Write :  for  these 
words  are  true  and  faithful."  The  eye  shall  behold  the  King  in  His 
beauty. 

But  there  are  circumstances  which  give  a  charm  to  the  society  of 
heaven,  which  is  true  of  no  other  society — it  is  a  united  society. 
Every  member  of  that  society  has  the  same  sympathies,  the  same 
tastes,  the  same  views,  the  same  feelings ;  there  are  there  no  elements 
of  discord.  Love  supreme  to  God  is  the  common  link  which  binds 
them  all  together.  When  the  saints  left  the  earth,  they  left  all  its 
dross  and  all  its  imperfections  behind  them,  and  because  there  is  no 
sin  there,  there  is  nothing  to  mar  the  full  and  perfect  felicity  of  those 
who  inherit  glory.  Besides  this,  it  is  a  society  in  the  ranks  of  which 
there  is  no  separations.  Earthly  society  is  made  up,  like  every  thing 
else  which  is  earthly,  of  changes  and  vicissitudes.  An  almost  infi- 
nite variety  of  changes  produce,  in  the  society  of  this  world,  contin- 
ual separations.  It  is  not  so  above.  The  saints  admitted  into  glory 
are  there  forever.  As  no  discord  can  interrupt  their  harmony,  so  no 
death  can  break  in  and  '  diminish  their  numbers.  But  I  may  not 
dwell  upon  this  theme  so  lovely.  The  work  of  religion  is  a  great,  a 
glorious  work,  because  it  trains,  it  disciplines,  it  educates  the  soul  for 
this  society,  where  all  is  harmony  and  love  among  the  members,  all 
is  conformity  to  Him  who  sitteth  on  the  throne. 

I  return  to  the  question.  What  is  the  nature  of  the  happiness  of 
heaven  ?     Judge  it  from  its  business. 

I  can  not  imagine  any  thing  like  happiness  apart  from  some  kind 


THE  SUBLIME  ISSUE  OP  THE  WORK:  OF  RELIGION.    521 

of  business  or  employment.  Idleness  on  eartli  is  not  only  crime,  but 
it  is  misery ;  and  this  is  the  reason  why  multitudes  who,  from  a  va- 
riety of  circumstances,  have  the  questionable  privilege  of  being  idle, 
plunge  into  vice  and  dissipation  to  escape  the  wretchedness  of  being 
entirely  without  employment.  They  have  not  the  energy  to  do 
right,  and  to  be  useful  to  society,  and  therefore,  following  the  bent 
of  their  dispositions,  commit  sin,  and  become  the  pests  of  society, 
merely  to  have  something  to  busy  themselves  about.  Upon  the 
general  propositions,  that  employment  is  essential  to  happiness,  I 
would  judge  that  even  in  heaven  there  must  be,  for  the  immortal 
spirit,  engagements  of  the  most  active  description ;  and  yet  so  differ- 
ent in  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  must  all  these  engagements  be 
from  those  which  occupy  our  attention  here  below,  that  we  can  form 
no  adequate  conception  of  them.  The  contrast  must  of  necessity  be 
beyond  all  measurement.  Ilere  we  are  ceaselessly  engaged  in  low 
and  groveling  occupations,  some  seeking  to  build  their  reputation 
and  happiness  upon  the  basis  of  some  project  of  enlarged  ambition ; 
some  toiling  as  if  the  very  happiness  of  time  and  eternity  combined 
depended  upon  it,  seeking  to  heap  up  riches  while  they  know  not 
who  shall  gather  or  enjoy  them ;  and  some  wasting  their  health  and 
strength,  and  time,  on  sensual,  transitory,  fading,  unsatisfying  gratifi- 
cations.    Of  all  men's  earthly  pursuits  self  is  the  single  end. 

But  the  employments  of  heaven  are  upon  a  more  enlarged  and  a 
more  enlarging  plan,  suited  to  the  state  and  capacity  of  the  immortal 
soul.  I  confess  to  you,  my  friends,  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 
treat  a  subject  of  this  kind,  where  there  is  such  an  infinite  dispropor- 
tion between  the  littleness  of  man's  mind,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  theme 
on  which  he  would  feebly  venture  to  exj^atiate.  God,  for  purposes 
■unquestionably  wise  and  benevolent,  has  never  seen  fit  to  let  us  into 
the  grand  secret  of  what  it  is  which  peculiarly  constitutes  the  bliss 
of  the  eternal  world  of  glory.  There  are  some  few  scattered  intima- 
tions, just  enough  to  stimulate  and  excite  the  spiritual  appetite. 
There  is  an  intimation,  by  no  means  obscure,  that  the  grand  employ- 
ment of  the  saints  in  glory  is  to  do  the  will  of  God  with  a  perfection 
of  obedience  springing  from  the  perfection  of  love.  This  intimation 
is  to  be  found  in  the  prayer  of  our  blessed  Master,  when  He  teaches 
us  to  petition  that  the  will  of  God  may  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in 
done  in  heaven.  We  know  that  this  is  the  employment  of  His  angels 
now,  and  that  which  is  suitable  to  the  nature  of  created  intelligences 
who  have  never  sinned,  can  not  be  inappropriate  to  the  nature  of 
those  who  are  raised  to  participation  of  their  glory. 

One  thing  with  certainty  we  learn  from  the  Scriptures,  that  much 


522  GREGORY    T.    BEDELL. 

of  the  happiness  of  heaven  will  consist  in  the  sacred  employ  of  praise 
and  thanksgiving.  Prayer  there  will  be  none,  because  prayer  is  the 
soul's  sincere  desire,  but  there  there  will  be  no  desire,  for  every  de- 
sire shall  have  been  completely  satisfied.  The  beloved  ajDOstle  of 
our  Lord,  from  his  prison  of  Patmos,  was  permitted  to  take  one  rap- 
tured glimpse  of  the  employments  which  characterize  and  constitute 
the  happiness  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  and  it  is  the 
praise  of  God — "  And  they  suag  a  new  song,  saying.  Thou  art  wor- 
thy to  take  the  book,  and  to  open  the  seals  thereof;  for  Thou  was 
slain  and  has  redeemed  us  to  God  by  Thy  blood  out  of  every  kin- 
dred and  tongue,  and  people,  and  nation ;  and  hast  made  us  unto  God 
kings  and  priests ;  and  we  shall  reign  on  the  earth.  And  I  beheld, 
and  I  heard  the  voice  of  many  angels  round  about  the  thi'one,  and 
the  beasts,  and  the  elders :  and  the  number  of  them  was  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of  thousands ;  saying  with  a  loud 
voice,  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  to  receive  power  and 
riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength,  and  honor,  and  glory,  and  blessing. 
And  every  creature  which  is  in  heaven,  and  in  the  earth,  and  under 
the  earth,  and  such  as  are  in  the  sea,  and  all  that  are  in  them,  heard 
I  saying.  Blessing,  and  honor,  and  glory,  and  power,  be  unto  Him 
that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb  forever  and  ever." 

There  is  one  idea  connected  with  the  employments  of  heaven, 
which,  to  my  mind,  is  full  of  beauty  and  consolation ;  and  it  is 
founded  on  the  nature  of  man  as  a  social  being.  I  do  not  desire  to 
enter  into  an}^  unauthorized  speculations,  and  would  be  very  cau- 
tious in  stepping  where  there  is  no  path  evidently  pointed  out  in  the 
Scripture ;  and  in  this  whole  consideration,  my  effort  has  been  to 
restrain  myself,  lest  I  should  overstep  the  boundary  which  the  sub- 
ject itself  ought  to  impose.  So  far  as  my  own  individual  opinion 
is  concerned,  and  that  opinion  is  countenanced  by  some  of  the  best 
and  wisest  of  the  servants  of  God,  there  are  other  emploj'ments  in 
heaven  besides  those  which  are  immediately  to  be  resolved  into 
praise  and  thanksgiving ;  employments  which  are  strictly  social  in 
their  nature.  And  under  this  impression,  it  appears  to  me,  that  con- 
nected with  the  worship  of  Almighty  God,  the  blessed  inhabitants 
of  the  celestial  city  will  be  engaged  in  the  intercourse  of  that  com- 
munion of  saints  which  will  fill  up  the  interval,  if  any  such  there 
be,  between  the  anthems  of  the  solemn  sanctuary.  It  ought  not  to 
be  considered  as  a  matter  at  all  incredible,  or  in  the  least  degree  un- 
reasonable, that  the  saints  should  then  converse  with  one  another  on 
those  great  things  which  God  has  done  for  their  souls. 

What  more  raptured  employment,  and  what  more  ravishing  de- 


THE  SUBLIME  ISSUE  OF  THE  WORK  OF  RELIGION.    523 

light,  than  that  the  hosts  of  the  redeemed,  as  they  had  been  rescued 
from  the  hitter  pains  of  everlasting  death,  should  testify  to  one  anoth- 
er, each  perfect  in  sympathy,  how  much  they  were  indebted  to  that 
matchless  Saviour  who  humbled  Himself  and  became  obedient  unto 
death  for  their  sakes.  What  should  hinder,  that  even  in  the  man- 
sions of  never-ceasing  felicity,  they  should  let  the  memory  rest  for 
awhile  on  the  grace  they  had  long  resisted,  the  dying  love  they  had 
despised,  the  patience  they  had  abused,  the  efforts  they  had  scorned. 
All  this  retrospection,  instead  of  producing  unhappiness,  would  but 
magnify  the  grace  of  God.  What  should  hinder,  that,  as  they  walk 
the  golden  streets,  or  recline  under  the  shadow  of  the  tree  that  bears 
twelve  manner  of  fruits,  or  lave  in  the  river  that  makes  glad  the  city 
of  God,  they  should  tell  to  one  another  the  marvelous  loving-kind- 
ness of  the  Saviour ;  how  He  Himself  subdued  their  unbelief,  and 
by  what  processes,  tender  or  severe,  He  let  down  into  their  souls  the 
light  of  spiritual  life  ?  What  hinders  that  they  should  animate  each 
other,  and  stimulate  each  other  in  their  ceaseless  progression  in  holi- 
ness aud  happiness,  by  a  growing  acquaintance  with  the  riches  of 
the  love  which  redeemed  them  ;  how  He  protected  them,  and  com- 
forted and  sanctified  them ;  guarded  them  from  dangerous  snares ; 
kept  them  from  the  power  of  temptation ;  reclaimed  them  when 
wanderiug;  snatched  them  from  many  a  peril,  and  led  them  in  His 
hand  to  glory?  Then,  kindling  as  the  theme  goes  on,  of  what  they 
were,  and  are,  and  still  may  be,  they  ever  and  anon  shall  cease  the 
social  communications,  and  render  their  pure  and  perfect  praises  to 
Him  who  is  the  author  of  all  their  happiness  ! 

As  I  anticipated,  I  have  mingled  the  enjoyments  and  the  em- 
ployments of  heaven  together.  They  can  not  be  sundered.  The 
happiness  of  heaven  consists  in  its  employments ;  all,  all  centering 
upon  God,  the  only  object  of  a  supreme  and  unceasing  regard. 
There  are  other  emblems  used  in  the  Scriptures  to  express  the  glory 
and  happiness  of  the  redeemed,  as  in  the  closing  chapters  of  the  book 
of  Eevelation ;  but  the  language  used  is  so  highly  figurative,  that 
the  only  idea  which  can  be  gathered  is,  that  the  glory  is  beyond  de- 
scription, the  happiness  beyond  conception. 

The  work  of  religion,  truly  commenced,  and  truly  carried  on, 
issues  in  the  happiness  which  I  have  feebly  attempted  to  describe. 
Tell  me  a  greater  work  than  that  whose  end  is  salvation — the  hap- 
piness of  heaven  beyond  description  or  conception — the  happiness 
of  heaven  without  alloy — the  happiness  of  heaven  without  termina- 
tion— the  immediate  society  of  that  God  in  whose  presence  there  is 
fullness  of  joy,  and  at  whose  right  hand  there  are  pleasures  for  ever- 


524  GREGORY    T.    BEDELL. 

more — ceaseless  progression  in  a  knowledge  wliicli  shall  be  capable 
of  satisfying  the  immense  desires  of  an  immortal  mind ;  ceaseless 
advancement  from  one  state  of  glorj  to  another,  each  perfect  in  its 
kind  ;  ceaseless  accumulations  of  happiness,  flowing  from  all  the  re- 
sources of  an  infinite  God ! 

My  friends,  when  I  think  of  the  character  of  heaven,  its  society, 
its  business,  its  enjoyments,  I  am  at  no  loss  to  discover  a  very  de- 
cided reason  why  the  great  work  of  personal  religion,  which  issues 
in  that  happiness,  is  neglected  and  despised.  There  is  no  uncon- 
verted man  who  has  the  least  wish  for  such  a  heaven  as  has  been 
described ;  and  who  will  be  religious  for  an  issue  which  is  not  de- 
sirable ?  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  admit,  my  brethren,  that  there  is 
even  in  the  unconverted  heart,  a  certain  undefined  desire  after  an 
unknown  happiness  beyond  the  grave,  but  it  is  not  the  kind  of  hap- 
piness which  God  has  provided. 

Tell  me,  ye  worldlings,  is  there  any  thing  in  the  felicity  of  heaven 
as  the  Scripture  unfolds  it  to  your  view,  which  suits  the  taste  and 
habit  of  your  souls  ?  Is  there  any  thing  in  the  society,  the  business 
or  the  enjoj'ments  of  the  place  which  brings  itself  down  to  the  level 
of  your  earthly  desires  and  your  groveling  pursuits  and  pleasures  ? 
How  strangely  would  the  man  of  warlike  ambition  feel,  were  he 
ushered  into  a  society  where  perfect  peace  and  love  sincere  have 
their  eternal  and  uninterrupted  reign.  How  strangely  would  the 
man,  who  seeks  the  honor  which  cometh  from  his  fellow,  feel  in  that 
place,  where  it  is  among  the  highest  glory  of  the  redeemed  to  cast 
their  crowns  at  the  feet  of  Him  who  made  them  kings  and  priests 
unto  God.  How  strangely  would  the  man,  ambitious  of  the  honors 
of  intellectual  worth  and  scientific  attainments  feel,  were  he  to  enter 
among  those  whose  highest  glory  is  that  they  know  the  Lord  as  they 
are  known  of  Him.  In  heaven,  the  merchant,  who  is  absorbed  in 
his  business,  would  find  no  means  of  gain  ;  and  for  the  careless  child 
of  pleasure  there  would  be,  in  heaven,  no  brilliant  assemblies  of  the 
votaries  of  folly  such  as  he  loves,  no  soul-ruining  theaters,  no  gaudy 
decorations  of  the  person  to  minister  to  pride  and  vanity.  There  is 
nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  in  the  Scripture  representation  of  heaven- 
ly felicity,  to  make  it  in  the  least  degree  desirable  to  one  solitary 
soul  among  you,  who  is  yet  in  the  slavery  of  the  world,  led  captive 
by  the  devil  at  his  will.  Heaven  would,  indeed,  be  a  sad,  and  sor- 
rowful, and  solitary  place  for  every  individual  of  an  earthly  taste 
and  an  unchanged  heart.  And  ought  I  to  expect  you  to  engage  in 
a  work  of  religion  for  an  issue  which  you  can  not  possibly  desire  ? 
What  is  heaven  ?     It  is  essentially  the  conformity  of  the  mind  and 


THE   SUBLIME   ISSUE   OF  THE  WORK  OF   RELiaiON.    625 

heart  to  God  !     What  is  tlie  work  of  religion  ?     The  process  of  that 
conformity  beginning  with  a  change  of  heart. 

My  dear  friends,  it  is  a  most  solemn  and  serious  business  to  you, 
that  in  your  state  of  unconcern  and  sin,  you  have  no  moral  fitness 
for  the  enjoyment  of  God's  glorious  presence.  Small  would  be  the 
consequence  of  this,  if  this  earth  were  destined  to  be  the  whole  thea- 
ter of  your  display.  But  you  are  born  for  immortality.  An  undying 
spirit  occupies  the  tabernacle  of  clay  which  is  destined  to  perish,  the 
food  of  corruption  and  the  worm.  In  a  very  short  period,  every 
eye  in  this  assembly  shall  be  closed  in  death  \  the  busy  must  leave 
his  business,  the  worldly  his  pleasure,  the  gay  his  gayety,  and  the 
thoughtless  his  unconcern.  I  do  confess  to  you,  my  brethren,  that 
it  fills  my  soul  with  melancholy  beyond  expression,  to  think  that  of 
those  by  whom  I  am  now  surrounded,  the  great  majority  are  living 
only  for  time  and  sense,  while  they  neglect  eternity  ;  and  that  while 
doing  this,  you  are  standing  on  the  narrow  isthmus,  which,  but  for 
a  moment,  divides  the  two.  In  a  few  short  years,  not  an  individual 
now  here,  will  be  seen  in  these  pews.  They  will  be  occupied  by 
another  generation.  But  where  will  you  be,  when  another  genera- 
tion has  taken  your  places  in  the  house  of  God  ?  "Where  will  you 
be  ?  In  the  heaven  which  I  have  described  as  the  issue  of  the  work 
of  religion,  or  in  that  dreadful  hell  which  awaits  the  neglecters  and 
despisers  of  a  Saviour's  mercy.  This  is  the  record  of  God !  The 
time  is  coming,  when  the  dead  shall  awake,  some  to  everlasting  life, 
and  some  to  shame  and  everlasting  contempt. 

"Beyond  this  vale  of  tears 
There  is  a  Ufe  above, 
Unmeasured  by  the  flight  of  years  ; 
And  all  that  life  is  love. 

"  There  is  a  death,  whose  pang 
Outlasts  the  fleeting  breath ; 
Oh  I  what  eternal  horrors  hang 
Around  the  second  death  I" 

To  one  or  the  other  you  are  going ;  and  soon,  very  soon,  will  the 
question  be  determined.  But  by  the  mercies  of  God ;  by  the  dying 
love  of  Jesus  Christ ;  by  the  worth  of  your  souls ;  by  the  untold 
happiness  of  heaven  ;  by  the  unutterable  miseries  of  hell,  I  beseech 
you  leave  not  the  determination  of  that  question  till  it  must  be  set- 
tled in  the  bitter  tears  and  the  unavailing  regrets  of  the  v/orld  of 
eternal  woe  !  Now  is  the  time  of  your  merciful  visitation ;  now  is 
the  time  to  repent  and  be  converted ;  to  lay  hold  on  Christ,  to  make 


526  GREGORY    T.    BEDELL. 

Him  your  wisdom,  and  righteousness,  and  sanctification,  and  redemp- 
tion ;  to  work  while  it  is  called  to-day ;  to  acquire  the  qualifications 
of  heaven — a  spiritual  taste.  Then,  and  only  then,  can  you  expect 
to  see  the  King  in  His  beauty ;  enjoy  the  society  of  heaven ;  mingle 
in  its  hallowed  employments ;  tune  your  hearts  and  your  voices  to 
its  melodies ;  take  your  part  in  its  anthems,  and  become  partakers  in 
its  inheritance — incorruptible,  undefiled,  unfading  perfection.  This 
is  the  issue  of  the  work  of  religion !     Earth  knows  none  so  great. 


DISCOURSE    SEVENTY. SEVENTH 

STEPHEN     OLIN,    D.D.    LL.E). 

This  distinguislied  scholar  and  divine,  wlio  has  been  called  the 
Chalmers  of  the  Methodist  churches,  was  born  in  Leicester,  Vermont, 
on  the  second  day  of  March,  1797.  His  father,  Judge  Olin,  was  for 
some  time  Lieutenant-Governor  of  that  State ;  and  secured  for  his  son 
the  advantages  of  Middlebury  College,  where  he  graduated  with  the 
highest  reputation  for  talent.  After  this  he  went  to  South  Carolina  to 
engage  in  teaching  for  a  time,  where  he  was  converted,  and  received 
into  the  fellowship  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  From  this 
time  he  began  to  preach  as  occasion  oflered,  and  was  soon  received  by 
the  South  Carolina  Annual  Conference  of  1824,  as  a  Methodist  proba- 
tionary travelmg  preacher,  and  stationed  at  Charleston.  It  was  said, 
by  one  at  the  time,  that  never  in  the  memory  of  the  oldest  Methodists, 
had  so  powerful  a  preacher,  "  burst  with  so  sudden  a  sjDlendor,  and  so 
tremendous  an  effect  upon  the  Church."  He  was  received,  in  1826,  into 
full  connection  as  a  preacher,  and  ordained  deacon ;  but  his  very  feeble 
health  compelled  him  to  locate ;  and  it  was  not  imtil  1832  that  the  state 
of  his  health  allowed  of  the  duties  of  traveluag  preacher,  when  he  was 
received  into  the  Georgia  Conference.  In  1830,  Dr.  Olin  was  elected 
Professor  in  the  University  of  Georgia ;  and  three  years  after.  Presi- 
dent of  Randolph  Macon  College,  Vii'ginia.  In  1837,  his  failing  health 
led  him  to  set  saU  for  an  extensive  tour  in  Europe  and  Asia,  the  prose- 
cution of  which  qualified  him  to  write  his  well-kno-^vm  "  Travels  in  the 
East."  Upon  his  return  to  America,  he  was  elected  President  of  the 
Wesleyan  University,  in  Connecticut,  in  1842,  over  which  he  presided 
for  nine  years,  and  imtil  the  time  of  his  death,  which  occm-red  on  the 
16th  of  August,  1851. 

Dr.  Olin  was  a  man  of  great  piety  and  humility,  and  was  endowed 
with  an  intellect  of  the  imperial  order,  at  once  acute,  penetratmg,  and 
profound.  As  a  teacher,  he  was  eminently  successful ;  and  in  the  abili- 
ties of  a  pulpit  orator,  he  is  said  to  have  had  few  equals.  Pev.  Dr. 
Wightman  of  South  Carolina,  observed,  of  his  sermons,  that  they  were 
"  the  grandest  exhibitions  of  intellectual  power  and  gracious  unction 


528  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

"which  were  ever  ■u'itnessed  iu  this  or  any  other  country,"  The  work- 
ing of  his  mighty  intellect,  he  adds,  "  remmded  one  of  a  steam-engine, 
of  vast  power,  set  up  in  a  frail  frame-work,  which  trembled  with  every 
stroke  of  the  piston  and  revolution  of  the  wheels."  The  "Methodist 
Quarterly  Review,"  in  an  able  and  appreciative  tribute  to  the  worth  of 
Dr.  Olin,  thus  alludes  to  his  ability  as  a  preacher :  "  In  overmastering 
power  in  the  pulpit,  we  doubt  Avhether  hving  he  had  a  rival,  or  dying 
has  left  his  hke  among  men.  His  power  did  not  consist  iu  any  single 
quality — in  force  of  reasoning,  or  fire  of  imagination,  or  heat  of  decla- 
mation— ^but  in  all  combined.  His  course  of  argument  was  always  clear 
and  strong,  yet  interfused  throughout  with  a  fervent  and  glowing  pas- 
sion— the  two  inseparably  united  in  a  torrent  that  overwhelmed  all  that 
listened  to  him.     His  was,  indeed,  the 

"  '  Seraphic  intellect  and  force 

To  seize  and  throw  the  doubts  of  man ; 
Impassioned  logic  which  outran 
The  hearer,  in  its  fiery  course.' " 

The  works  of  Dr.  Ohn  have  been  published  m  two  volumes,  made 
up  of  sermons,  and  lectures,  and  addresses.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted 
that  so  few  of  his  masterly  efforts  were  reduced  to  writing.  The  fol- 
lowing discourse  is  a  fair  illustration  of  his  preaching.  Certain  parts 
of  it  will  compare  favorably  with  the  best  specimens  of  pulpit  eloquence 
in  our  langixage. 


FAITH  IN  CHRIST  THE  GREAT  WANT  OF  THE  SOUL. 

"Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled;  ye  believe  in  God — believe  also  in  Me." — John, 
xiv.  1. 

The  word  believe^  in  the  original,  has  in  both  instances  the  same 
form,  and  the  sentence  might  have  been  rendered,  "  Believe  in  Grod 
— ^believe  also  in  Me,"  imperatively ;  or  affirmatively  in  both :  "  Ye 
believe  in  God — ^je  also  believe  in  Me ;"  or,  as  in  the  English  text, 
the  first  affirmatively,  ''Ye  believe  in  God;"  the  last  imperatively, 
"  believe  also  in  Me."  Whichever  form  is  adopted,  the  meaning  is 
so  modified  by  the  previous  clause,  "  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled," 
as  to  convey  the  same  idea — the  insufficiency  of  faith  in  God  alone, 
and  the  need  of  faith  in  Christ,  to  dissipate  the  fears  and  satisfy  the 
wants  of  the  soul  of  man. 

Travelers  have  reported  of  some  inconsiderable  barbarous  tribes 
that  they  have  no  idea  of  a  Supreme  Power,  the  Maker  and  Ruler 


FAITH    IN    CHRIST.  529 

of  men  and  of  all  things.  Sucli  reports  are  probably  incorrect, 
or,  if  true  in  a  few  instances,  these  are  exceptions  to  what  may, 
with  sufficient  exactness,  be  denominated  the  universal  belief  in 
God. 

A  great  many  processes  of  argumentation  have  been  stated  as 
fally  justifying,  and  as  having  probably  led  to,  this  unanimous  con- 
sent of  mankind  to  the  great  fundamental  truth  of  religion.  They 
have  educed  it,  it  is  said,  from  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect. 
Every  object  and  every  fact  around  us  has  been  produced  by  some 
cause  or  agent,  and  that  by  some  other  more  remote,  and  so  on  up  to 
a  first  cause,  which  must  needs  be  the  self-existing  God.  Another 
process,  less  complicated  and  elaborate,  which  has  therefore  been 
thought  by  many  to  lead  to  the  universal  belief  in  question  is  this : 
I  feel  myself  hemmed  in  and  limited  in  the  use  of  all  my  powers  of 
body  and  mind.  It  is  the  same  thing,  whether  I  use  my  intellect, 
my  senses,  or  my  limbs.  I  can  proceed  a  little  way,  and  then  I  press 
against  a  barrier.  I  am  shut  up  within  the  finite,  and  feel  that  I  am. 
Now  this  sense  of  the  finite,  say  the  metaphj^sicians,  unavoidably 
suggests  the  idea  of  the  infinite.  This  painful  apprehension  of  the 
limited  sphere  of  human  capabilities  suggests  thoughts  of  the  illimit- 
able. My  own  scanty  knowledge  and  feeble  energies  throw  me 
upon  the  contemplation  of  Omniscience  and  OmnijDOtence,  and  thus 
necessarily  lift  me  up  to  the  great  idea  of  a  God  in  whom  these  high 
attributes  reside.  Now  all  this  may  be  true,  and  I  see  no  objection 
to  such  statements,  considered  merely 'as  arguments.  It  may  be, 
however,  that  the  human  mind  reaches  the  conclusion  by  some 
briefer  process,  or  by  no  process  at  all.  It  may  be  an  instinct  of  our 
nature  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  the  Author  of  our  being — that 
faith  in  God  is  a  first  principle  imbosomed  in  our  very  nature,  and 
that  unbelief  is  the  real  product  of  speculation.  It  seems  to  me  that 
Atheism,  which  denies  the  existence  of  God,  and .  Pantheism,  v/hich 
imbues  all  things  and  all  secondary  causes  with  Divinity,  are  not 
the  spontaneous  growth  of  the  human  mind,  but  of  philosophy, 
falsely  so  called. 

This  belief  in  God,  however  attained,  is  not  adapted  to  satisfy  the 
religious  wants  of  man,  but  rather  to  fill  his  bosom  with  profound 
anxieties.  The  moment  this  great  truth  is  admitted  as  something 
more  than  a  pure  abstraction,  it  becomes  most  startling  and  alarm- 
ing. The  thought  of  being  in  the  world  with  the  God  of  the  uni- 
verse, its  Creator,  absolute  in  authority,  irresistible  in  power,  and 
profoundly  mysterious  in  His  attributes,  purposes,  and  modes  of 
dealing  with  Ilis  dependent  creatures,  is,  to  every  one  who  lifts  up 

34 


530  STEPHEN    OLIN, 

tis  soul  to  tlie  reception  and  contemplation  of  it,  absolutely  terrific 
and  appalling. 

It  is  "  the  eternal  power  and  Godhead"  of  Jehovah  that  are 
chiefly  disclosed  by  the  works  of  creation.  These  attributes  tend 
more  to  produce  terror  than  to  impart  consolation  and  awaken  confi- 
dence and  hope.  Nations  left  to  the  light  of  nature  seek  to  avert 
the  anger  and  enmity  of  Deity  by  sacrifices  and  sufferings,  and  but 
seldom  indulge  in  love  and  gratitude. 

Creation  and  Providence  do  not  teach  us  God's  benevolence. 
The  beauties  of  nature,  the  enjoyments  of  life,  might  be  so  under- 
stood but  for  contradictory  teaching  from  convulsions,  barrenness, 
famines,  pestilence,  poverty,  anxieties,  disappointments,  death.  Upon 
the  whole,  our  present  condition  can  not  be  reconciled  with  the  be- 
lief in  God's  benevolence,  without  reference  to  a  future  state,  to 
which  our  present  mode  of  existence  holds  the  relation  of  a  proba- 
tion. And  these  are  doctrines  which  the  light  of  nature  does  not 
reveal. 

Natural  arguments  for  the  soul's  immortality,  though  of  some 
value  to  enforce  and  illustrate  the  doctrine  as  revealed  in  Christ,  are 
of  no  worth  out  of  that  connection.     The  strongest  of  these  are, 

1.  The  nobler  powers  of  the  mind,  adapted  to  higher  pursuits  and 
contemplations.  Yet,  in  most  cases,  these  powers  are  little  de- 
veloped— hardly  enough  to  fit  men  for  their  duties — and  they  tend 
to  things  sensual  and  worldly  so  generally  and  strongly  as  to  lead  to 
the  belief  that  they  are  only  destined  to  live  for  the  present. 

2.  The  continual  progress  of  the  soul  in  knowledge  and  virtue; 
and  yet,  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  the  mind  declines  with  the 
body  as  old  age  comes  on,  and  seems  extinct  with  death. 

3.  The  strong  desire  for  immortality.  Yet  other  desires  still 
stronger — those  for  life  and  happiness — are  disregarded  in  God's 
administration.  Life  and  immortality  were  brought  to  light  by 
Christ,  and  were  only  guessed  at  by  the  heathen  ;  and  there  is  noth- 
ing in  mere  Theism  to  satisfy  the  soul  that  it  shall  exist  after  death  ; 
or,  if  it  does,  that  existence  can  be  otherwise  than  wretched.  Men 
are  pushed  up  to  the  brink  of  the  grave  with  no  light  beyond — 
doubtful,  at  best,  of  all  beyond.  The  vast  procession  of  humanity, 
swept  on  by  an  invisible  fate,  plunges  into  a  midnight  gulf.  Gen- 
eration after  generation  disappears,  and  no  one  knows  their  destiny. 
We  look  above,  around  to  men,  onward  to  the  departed,  to  all  in 
vain,  for  a  solution  of  our  dreadful  doubts.  No  voice  is  heard.  It 
is  a  still  and  dark  domain,  that  of  death.  Is  the  soul  to  think,  to 
feel,  to  joy,  to  suffer,  to  hope,  to  aspire  no  more  ?     Is  all  to  return  to 


FAITH    IN    CHRIST.  531 

dust  ?  "Will  tlie  uplifted  arm  of  God  crush  tlie  spiritual  as  it  demol- 
ishes the  material  ?  Will  there  be  no  more  imaginings — sleeping, 
waking  visions  ?  no  more  communings  with  those  we  love  ?  no  greet- 
ings ?  no  sj^mpathies  ?  The  deep  struggling  of  the  soul  against  de- 
pravity and  corruption — the  hungering  and  thirsting  after  the  true, 
the  pure,  the  lovely — was  it  all  for  naught?  Does  it  end  here? 
Shall  this  struggle  be  the  end  of  me  ?  the  gloomy  pit  of  corruption 
be  my  home  evermore,  and  make  me  the  equal — the  victim  of  the 
loathsome  worm,  that  but  to-morrow  shall  begin  his  feast  upon  my 
flesh  ?  Has  the  wisdom  of  man,  has  the  experience  of  the  entire 
race,  has  the  religion  of  nature — Theism  or  Deism — has  any  but 
God,  has  God  out  of  Christ  any  answer  for  these  interrogatories  of 
a  dying,  despairing  race  ?  No  !  There  is  no  answer.  Earth,  and 
the  shades  below,  and  heaven  above,  deny  all  response — all  hope 
to  the  soul  in  its  hour  of  suspense,  and  agony,  and  doom.  And 
here  we  are  driven  forward,  an  unwilling  herd,  toward  this  fatal  limit 
— ^looking  for  light,  and  there  is  no  ray ;  calling  for  help,  and  there 
is  no  answer ! 

This  horror  of  being  nothing  would  be  the  grand  evil ;  this  sus- 
pense as  to  the  future  would  be  the  natural  and  fierce  plague  of  the 
soul  under  the  circumstances  supposed,  and  which  must  cling  to  our 
very  being  without  the  aid  of  the  Gospel. 

In  some  minds,  the  question  of  immortality  has  received  a  par- 
tial solution.  Doubt,  if  not  hope,  has  possibly  taken  the  place  of 
absolute  despair.  Let  us  suppose  the  light  thus  attained  by  a  few 
to  be  general  or  universal ;  that  through  philosophy,  or  tradition,  or 
innate  teachings,  the  mystery  were  quite  chased  away,  or  that  an 
audible  voice  proclaimed  from  heaven,  *'  We  shall  live  forever.  The 
body  even  shall  revive,  and  the  soul  shall  be  immortal."  Would 
such  a  faith  satisfy  the  human  mind  ?  It  would  satisfy  one  demand 
of  our  nature  and  condition,  but  it  would  awaken  new  anxieties 
harder  to  allay  or  appease.  Who  can  feel  the  import  of  the  an- 
nouncement, You  shall  exist  evermore  ?  Under  what  conditions  ? 
With  the  same  infirmities,  liabilities,  wants,  tendencies,  aspirations? 
Exposed,  as  here,  to  pain,  loss,  disappointment,  toil  ?  Surrounded, 
as  here,  with  temptations,  dangers,  foes  ?  with  wicked  men  ?  What 
joys  are  there  really  adapted  to  the  soul's  wants  ?  I  have  tried 
wealth,  luxury,  ambition;  and  in  less  than  threescore  years  and  ten, 
have  lost  all  my  relish  for  them.  Friends  have  deceived.  Success, 
has  palled  upon  me.  All  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.  Is  there 
no  better  lot  nor  hope  ?  Then  death  were  better  than  life,  and  an 
untimely  birth  than  endless  being. 


532  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

We  must  spend  this  eternity  in  tlie  domains  of  an  eternal,  om- 
nipotent God.  We  tremble  at  tliis  association.  We  liave  no  ascer- 
tained relations  with  the  Almighty  One.  There  is  no  covenant 
between  us.  What  are  his  dispositions  toward  us?  We  have 
known  much  of  His  severity  and  His  judgments.  Will  He  make 
my  eternal  lot  happy  or  wretched  ?  Perhaps  wretched.  The  cup 
of  human  misery  has  even  run  over  in  His  presence.  Most  are  poor. 
Many  suffer  clear  through  this  state  of  existence.  May  they  not 
through  the  next  ?  The  best  men  often  suffer  most  here.  What 
security  is  there  for  the  future  ? 

Admit,  now,  the  idea  that  man  is  alienated  from  God  by  sin,  and 
nothing  more  is  wanting  to  complete  His  despair.  God's  justice, 
then,  requires  our  misery ;  His  holiness,  our  banishment  from  His 
presence.  There  is  in  this  Deistic  dispensation  no  place  for  repent- 
ance. We  see  vice  and  sin  left  to  produce  their  own  consequences, 
and  God  does  not  interfere  in  compassion.  Intemperance,  prodigal- 
ity, debauchery  lead  alwaj^s  to  evil,  often  to  ruin  here  ;  and  we  can 
only  infer  from  the  things  seen  that  so  it  will  be  through  eternity. 
Eemedies,  interpositions  to  rescue,  mediation,  substitution,  pardon, 
all  are  unknown  where  Christ  is  not. 

These  considerations  and  statements  expose  the  wants  which  a 
fuller,  brighter  dispensation  is  required  to  satisfy.  Deism — "faith 
in  God" — is  adapted  to  awaken,  not  to  calm  our  fears ;  to  trouble 
the  heart,  not  to  assuage  its  griefs  and  anxieties.  It  may  be  a  co- 
worker with  the  law.  It  may  disclose  our  wants  and  perils.  It 
may  even  bring  us  to  Christ,  but  has  no  sufficiency  to  satisfy  or 
save. 

"  Believe  also  in  Me,"  is  the  complement  of  the  text,  which  quite 
provides  for  all  the  contingencies  and  necessities  of  our  moral  and 
spiritual  nature — all  the  wants  which  this  train  of  reflections  has 
suggested,  and  all  that  are  liable  to  be  felt  or  encountered  by  man 
in  his  endless  career. 

Nature  teaches  only  the  "  eternal  power  and  Godhead"  of  the 
Almighty — His  terrible  majesty,  and  His  ability  to  destroy  as  well 
as  aid  us.  Christ  teaches  that  "God  is  love;"  that  He  "careth  for 
us  ;"  that  not  a  hair  of  our  heads  falls  without  Him;  "that  like  as 
a  father  pitieth  his  children,"  so  does  God  pity  His  creatures ;  that 
He  is  indeed  our  Father. 

Death,  "  the  king  of  terrors,"  the  abhorrence  of  our  nature  and 
of  natural  religion,  becomes,  under  the  economy  which  ''brings  life 
and  immortality  to  light,"  an  open  door  into  the  world  of  glory. 
Death  has  lost  his  sting — he  is  a  conquered  enemy. 


FAITH    IN    CHRIST.  533 

,  The  Gospel  dispensation  explains  wliatever  is  anomalous  and 
unintelligible  in  our  present  condition.  The  labors,  the  anxieties, 
the  disappointments,  the  mortifications,  the  bereavements,  the  suffer- 
ings that  make  up  our  history  here  are  all  clearly  interpreted. 
These,  to  an  irreligious  mind,  are  wholly  inexplicable  upon  any 
theory  which  stops  short  of  rejecting  a  superintending  Providence 
altogether,  or  which,  indeed,  does  not  go  the  length  of  absolute 
atheism,  and  leave  the  affairs  of  this  world,  so  far  as  they  transcend 
the  grasp  of  mere  human  control,  to  the  ministrations  of  blind, 
mindless  accident.  Many  good  men,  too,  who  are  far  from  calling 
in  question  the  Divine  prerogative  of  God,  and  would  shudder  at 
the  thought  of  dwelling  in  a  world  where  he  does  not  reign  over 
all,  are  yet  grievously  puzzled  with  this  class  of  phenomena.  Con- 
scious of  their  own  demerits,  of  the  justice  of  every  chastisement 
that  falls  upon  them,  they  are  yet  left  to  wonder  why,  if  God  is 
merciful,  and  they  are  His  friends  and  His  children,  little  or  no  dis- 
'tinction  should  be  made  between  them  and  His  open  foes.  They 
draw  inferences  not  unfavorable  to  the  Divine  mercy  or  veracity, 
but  to  their  own  real  character  and  relation  to  God.  They  write 
bitter  things  against  themselves,  and  conclude  that  they  are  bastards 
and  not  sons,  because  they  have  part  in  afflictions  whereof  all  are 
partakers. 

I  am  not  stating  an  imaginary  or  an  unfrequent  case  in  human 
experience.  It  is  a  view  of  God's  administration  upon  which  multi- 
tudes dwell  habitually,  and  which  has  shed  its  saddening  influences 
upon  many  passages  in  almost  every  good  man's  history.  It  is  the 
natural  fruit  of  a  narrow,  imperfect,  deistic  faith.  Now  faith  in 
Christ — a  simple,  hearty  reception  of  the  whole  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus — offers  not  some  palliation  of  this  chief  trouble  of  so  many 
sincere  hearts,  but  a  positive  and  satisfactory  solution  of  the  whole 
difS.culty.  Each  of  the  hundred  texts  in  the  New  Testament  which 
teach  us  that  suffering  here  is  rather  disciplinary  than  punitive,  and 
that  temporal  afflictions  are  busy  in  working  out  for  good  men,  who 
walk  not  after  the  flesh,  the  most  excellent  spiritual  and  eternal 
results,  teaches  a  philosophy  in  the  hght  of  which  all  doubt  van- 
ishes away,  and  all  contradictions  find  reconciliation.  We  have  here 
the  true  theory  of  the  world  under  God's  administration — the  basis 
of  a  system  in  which  every  intelligible  fact,  every  dark  event,  the 
entire  chaos  of  human  affairs,  have  their  appropriate  place,  and  be- 
come explicable  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  Divine  attributes,  and 
with  man's  nature  and  destiny.  All  appearance  and  suspicion  of 
accident,  or  chance,  or  blind  destiny  vanish  away  at  the  coming  in 


534  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

of  this  evangelical  faith  ;  and  all  the  disappointments,  and  disasters, 
and  sufferings  of  men,  and  all  the  confusion,  and  crash,  and  wreck 
of  external  things,  stand  revealed  in  the  light  of  this  large.  Divine 
philosophy  as  a  vast  apparatus  for  the  production  and  culture  of 
those  high  moral  virtues  which  shall  be  in  request  in  the  society  and 
services  of  heaven. 

Whatever  may  be  the  kind,  or  degree,  or  duration  of  a  good 
man's  sufferings,  this  last  and  proper  view  of  the  Christian  dispen- 
sation is  always  suf&cient  to  calm  his  anxieties  and  silence  all  com- 
plaints. It  is  God's  chosen  way  to  make  men  holier  on  earth  and 
happier  in  heaven.  It  is  idle,  it  is  hardly  innocent,  to  talk  of  the 
mysteriousness  of  such  providences.  They  constitute  an  important 
part  of  God's  revealed  and  predestined  plan  for  saving  the  world 
and  refitting  our  fallen  souls  with  such  virtues  and  capabilities  as 
are  best  adapted  to  a  heavenly  career.  Every  position  in  life,  each 
mode  of  suffering,  each  sphere  of  acting,  becomes  a  favorable  point 
for  the  development  of  Christian  virtues.  The  poor  man's  povert}'-, 
the  sick  man's  suffering,  the  rich  man's  affluence,  the  wise  man's 
knowledge,  constitute  occasions  or  instruments  for  jDi'omoting  the 
highest  conceivable  ends  of  the  Divine  administration.  All  appa- 
rently fortuitous  changes  are  only  so  many  conjectures  divinely  ap- 
pointed for  the  profitable  exercise  or  honorable  manifestation  of 
those  gracious  attributes  with  which  the  Gospel  will  enrich  and 
beautify  its  disciples. 

It  is  meet  and  right,  and  our  bounden  duty,  to  welcome  such 
views  of  the  Gospel,  and  to  stir  up  our  spirits  to  the  exercise  of  such 
a  faith.  It  is  the  high  privilege  of  every  good  man  to  go  forth  under 
the  inspiring  and  assured  conviction  that  all  things  work  together 
for  his  good ;  that  light  afflictions  here  will  certainly  add  to  the 
exceeding  weight  of  eternal  glory ;  and  that,  if  he  is  led  on  by  an 
invisible  hand  through  the  deepest  waters  and  the  hottest  fires,  it 
only  betokens  a  more  splendid  triumph,  and  a  higher  destiny,  and 
should  admonish  him  to  lift  np  from  depths  that  have  come  over  his 
soul  a  louder  cry  unto  God,  and  to  urge  through  the  thick  clouds 
beyond  which  the  Divine  presence  dwells  concealed,  the  acclamation 
of  a  braver  faith,  "  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him." 

Here  I  could  wish  that  I  had  a  moment  to  contrast  with  Ihe  Di- 
vine system  which  I  have  so  imperfectly  developed — the  system 
which  regards  all  physical  and  social  good  and  evil  as  instrumental 
in  the  production  of  great  moral  results,  with  that  mere  worldly  phi- 
losophy which  esteems  these  only  as  the  accidents  and  anamolies  at- 
tendent  on  what  is  called  human  progress — a  theory  which  can  give 


FAITH    IN    CHRIST.  535 

no  better  account  of  tlie  revolutions  and  sufferings  of  tlie  race  in  all 
past  time,  tban  that  they  have  developed  great  principles  in  govern- 
ment and  art,  and  the  economy  of  life  ;  and  that  they  tend  to  a  con- 
summation already  visible  in  the  dim  future,  in  which  the  masses 
shall  be  well  fed,  taught,  and  governed — in  which  China  shall  enjoy 
trial  by  jury,  and  Eussia  universal  suffrage.  How  worthy  of  a  wise, 
mercifal  God  is  the  former  view,  making  all  things  promotive  of  ho- 
liness and  happiness !  How  heartless  and  worldly  the  last,  which 
accounts  of  immortal  men  and  of  past  generations  as  of  the  rank  veg- 
etation that  grows  and  decays  to  fatten  the  soil  for  a  better  crop ! 

The  Gospel  also  satisfies  the  anxious  inquiries  of  the  soul  with 
regard  to  its  moral  obligations,  relations,  and  tendencies.  It  answers 
the  momentous  question.  What  does  God  demand  of  us?  Its  an- 
nouncements on  these  points  are,  indeed,  sufficiently  repulsive  and 
appalling.  As  to  all  moral  interests,  it  declares  that  we  are  hope- 
lessly ruined.  The  Almighty  is  our  enemy — we  are  His  enemies.  "We 
are  without  strength  or  power  to  relieve  us,  and  the  curse — the  wrath  ot 
God — abides  upon  us.  Eepentance  can  not  atone  for  the  past,  or  in- 
sure acceptance  for  the  future.  No  efforts  of  any  sort  can  bring  us 
upon  a  better  footing.  So  radical  is  the  moral  defection,  that,  do 
what  we  will,  we  can  not  obey  or  love — we  can  not  even  desire  to 
do  so ;  so  that  the  alienation  from  God,  and  banishment  from  all 
holy  associations,  and  all  elevating,  spiritual  pursuits  and  enjoyments 
result  no  less  from  our  own  dispositions  and  tendencies,  than  from 
the  Divine  justice.  Such  announcements  from  the  "God  over  all," 
are  truly  calculated  to  "trouble  the  heart;"  but  when  danger  is  real 
and  imminent,  any  thing  is  better  than  false  security — than  to  sleep 
on  the  brink  of  ruin.  The  soul  would  know  the  worst  of  its  pros- 
pect. Effort,  even  when  vain,  ministers  a  temporary  solace,  and  the 
human  mind  would  rather  look  its  fearful  destiny  in  the  face,  and 
even  make  a  covenant  with  hell,  than  be  surprised  into  it. 

Surely  no  homily  upon  sin  and  the  sinner's  doom  was  ever  half 
so  appalHng  and  effective  as  a  silent  contemplation  of  the  great  catas- 
trophe upon  the  cross.  We  see  God's  abhorrence  of  sin — what  an 
odious,  terrible  element  it  is  in  His  moral  system.  The  dignity,  the 
suffering,  the  condescension  of  the  holy  Victim — what  do  they  teach 
but  God's  utter  abhorrence  of  our  moral  character  ?  His  irreconcil- 
able opposition  to  man  in  his  present  false  position  ?  The  agony  of 
the  Garden  is  a  more  fearful  manifestation  of  this  than  the  damnation 
of  the  entire  race,  of  which  it  is  a  kind  of  epitome.  How  deep  the 
stain,  how  desperate  the  malady  which  called  for  such  an  interfer- 
ence !     I  think  this  view  of  sin,  if  fairly  entertained,  would  be  strictly 


536  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

intolerable — overwlielming  to  tlie  liuman  soul.  "We  need  preach  no 
more  about  the  atrocity  and  danger  of  sin,  could  we  induce  men  to 
look  upon  the  exhibition  of  its  consequences  as  seen  upon  the  cross. 

The  cross  teaches  another  lesson.  It  "  troubles"  the  heart  by  a 
fearful  manifestation  of  God's  hatred  of  sin,  bat  it  inspires  hope  by 
the  provision  which  it  makes  for  the  sinner.  Why  this  sacrifice  ? 
It  had  been  easy  to  apply  a  cheaper  remedy,  to  destroy,  to  cut  off 
the  tainted  race  of  men.  This  costlier  plan  speaks  of  God's  compas- 
sion for  the  sinner.  He  hates  sin,  but  will  save  the  transgressor. 
It  is  not  wrath,  wholly  or  chiefly  that  is  manifested.  No.  "  God  so 
loved  the  world  that  He  gave  His  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever 
believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  This 
shows  His  disposition  toward  the  sinner.  He  will  make  smaller, 
having  made  the  great  sacrifice.  He  will  withhold  no  needful  help, 
now  that  the  mighty  design  has  been  so  seriouslj^  entered  upon. 
Christ,  too,  was  voluntary  in  the  sacrifice,  not  compelled.  He  con- 
templated the  burden  He  was  about  to  assume.  He  would  have 
turned  the  cup  away,  but  not  if  He  must  drink  it.  "  Let  this  cup 
pass,"  He  said,  when  the  agony,  the  mocking,  the  cruel  injustice  of 
Pilate's  tribunal,  the  contradiction  of  sinners,  the  contempt  of  the 
people,  the  final  pang  was  full  and  near  before  Him.  "  If  it  be  pos- 
sible, let  this  cup  pass,"  but  not  if  be  Thy  will — not  if  the  condition 
be  imperative — not  if  the  great  plan  will  thus  be  frustrated  ;  for,  to 
this  end  came  I  into  the  world. 

This  is  the  grand  central  position  of  the  Gospel — is  the  Gospel 
itself.  He  who  believes  in  the  crucified  Saviour  believes  the  Gospel 
— ^hath  eternal  life.  This  is  the  true  point  of  view  whence  it  must 
be  contemplated,  or  all  is  vain,  the  source  of  saving  light — of  all 
consolation  to  troubled  hearts.  We  stand  by  the  cross  of  Christ  and 
cry  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world."  This  is  our  message,  our  argument,  our  doctrine,  our  warn- 
ing to  the  impenitent,  our  encouragement  for  the  sorrowing,  the  rich 
hope  of  the  believer.  When  we  can  induce  a  man  to  fix  his  gaze 
upon  the  cross,  our  work  is  done.  He  is  there  taught  of  God.  We 
step  aside,  and  only  beseech  him  to  keep  his  gaze  directed  to  the 
Lamb.  There  he  will  learn  all.  He  will  hate  the  sins  that  wounded 
his  Lord.  He  will  believe  in  all  the  word  of  God,  which  is  so  glori- 
ously and  wonderfully  fulfilled.  His  doubts  will  vanish  in  the  clear 
light  of  such  a  demonstration.  No  heart  can  withstand  the  affecting 
vision.  The  sinner  sees  Jesus  as  He  is — all  compassionate,  amiable, 
divine.  He  will  be  speedily  transformed  by  gazing  upon  the  exhi- 
bition.    Gratitude,  heavenly  love,  blessed  confidence  steal  into  his 


FAITH  IN  cnmsT.  537 

soul,  as  it  waits  in  rapt  and  adoring  contemplation  of  Him  "  who  first 
loved  "US."  None  can  bear  away  from  sucli  a  presence  a  lingering 
doubt,  "  a  troubled  heart,"  an  unbelieving  fear.  None  but  a  stupid, 
hardened  sinner  can  endure  the  sight  unmoved ;  and  even  he — he 
has  not  seen  Christ,  his  eyes  are  held,  he  is  blind ;  yea,  if  our  Gospel 
be  hidden  from  him  he  is  lost,  and  the  god  of  this  world  has  indeed 
bhnded  his  eyes. 

I  lin2:er  here,  because  I  feel  that  this  view  of  Christ  involves  not 
only  very  important  but  all-essential  truth — nothing  more  is  wanting 
to  the  soul's  comfort  or  salvation.  I  must  yet  speak  briefly  of  other 
blessed  adaptations  of  the  Christian  system. 

I  will  refer  to  the  kind  and  degree  of  evidence  which  attends  and 
attests  true  interior  religion — not  historical  and  external  evidence, 
which,  however  clear  and  valuable,  presents  a  demand  for  erudition 
and  study,  and  a  large  intellectual  grasp,  and  is,  so  far,  less  adapted 
to  the  common  mind  ;  but  internal,  experimental  evidence,  which  is 
liable  neither  to  doubts  nor  cavilings.  Nothing  short  of  certainty 
can  satisfy  or  ought  to  satisfy  a  soul  whose  eternity  is  the  question 
in  debate.  It  is  madness  to  be  quiet  and  satisfied  so  long  as  we  are 
in  doubt  whether  we  are  the  friends  or  the  enemies  of  God.  The  soul 
can  not,  must  not  rest  in  suspense.  The  heart  is  troubled,  tortured 
by  suspense.  Nice  deductions,  conclusions  arrived  at  by  ingenious 
concatenated  trains  of  argument,  may  do  in  the  forum  or  in  a  show 
of  dialectics,  but  bring  no  comfort  to  a  soul  that  has  roused  itself  to 
the  inquiry.  Am  I  God's  friend  or  foe  ?  Now  the  great  proofs  on 
which  the  Gospel  relies  are  demonstrations  made  to  the  moral  per- 
ceptions of  man,  and  are  quite  independent  of  logic  and  metaphysics. 
Even  the  preliminary  evidences  and  influences  of  the  Gospel  are  of 
this  sort.  The  true  light  shines  into  all  hearts  directly  from  God. 
The  Spirit  operates  divinely  upon  all,  and  all  have  a  witness  within 
that  responds  to  the  Gospel  message.  We  rely  exclusively  on  this 
voice  of  God  within  when  we  press  religious  truth  on  sinners.  "We 
know  they  believe,  for  God  insures  it. 

Still  less  is  the  reality  of  reconciliation  with  God  and  justification 
by  faith  left  to  doubtful  inferences.  The  Spirit  of  God  bears  wit- 
ness within  to  the  great  moral  revolution ;  and  who  could  endure  to 
rest  in  such  a  matter  on  lower  testimony  ?  who  could  cease  from  the 
troubles  of  his  smitten  heart?  who  could  rejoice  evermore?  who 
could  exult  in  Christ  his  Saviour  ?  who  glory  in  heavenly  prospects, 
so  long  as  doubt  hovered  over  his  mind  ?  It  were  absolute  madness. 
The  spirit  of  a  man  can  not  rest  till  the  day-star  arise  in  the  heart — 
till  Christ  be  found  within,  the  hope  of  glory — till  the  filial  cry  of 


538  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

"  Abba,  Fatlier"  comes  up  spontaneously  from  tbe  depths  witbin. 
And  this  is  just  the  evidence  -wbicli  the  Gospel  offers ;  and  they  who 
rest  short  of  it  enter  but  slightly  into  its  true  genius,  and  but  poorly 
avail  themselves  of  its  provisions. 

This  evidence,  so  indispensable  to  our  peace  at  the  outset,  is  sec- 
onded, confirmed,  and  almost  forgotten,  in  the  progress  of  experience, 
in  that  of  love,  which  becomes  the  engrossing  principle  in  a  state  of 
mature  piety.  The  tendency  of  spiritual  life  and  gracious  influence 
is  to  produce  a  oneness  of  purpose  with  Christ,  a  sympathy  with  His 
interests  and  glory,  an  intense  affection  for  His  character,  attributes, 
and  designs,  which  in  some  measure  supersedes,  or  rather  involves 
and  absorbs  faith,  hope,  and  every  other  grace  and  virtue.  The  soul 
imbued  with  love  to  Christ  is  pne  with  Him  in  such  a  sense  as  to 
feel  a  spontaneous  assurance  of  His  favor.  It  thinks  little  of  what 
proof  may  exist  of  a  fact  which  is  part  and  parcel  of  its  existence, 
which  has  living  demonstration  in  all  its  strong  impulses  and  aspira- 
tions. Such  a  one  communes  with  Christ.  Christ  is  formed  within 
him,  lives  in  him,  and  he  no  longer  asks,  "Who  shall  ascend  into 
heaven  to  bring  Christ  from  above,  or  who  shall  descend  into  the 
deep,  that  is,  to  bring  up  Christ  again  from  the  dead  ?  The  confi- 
dence of  loving  and  of  being  loved  becomes  entire,  wanting  nothing ; 
and  to  be  Christ's  forever  becomes  more  a  reality  already  entered 
upon  than  a  question  about  which  there  are  doubtful  inquiries  to  be 
held. 

It  is  quite  in  the  spirit  of  my  text  to  notice  how  much  the  incar- 
nation of  Christ  and  His  participation  of  our  nature  tend  to  the  pro- 
duction of  this  blessed  confidence  in  Him.  We  contemplate  Him  as 
a  man  born  of  a  woman,  partaker  of  our  weaknesses  and  wants. 
We  look  upon  Him  as  a  son — a  kinsman — a  philanthropist.  Our 
sympathies  warm — our  affections  are  elicited.  We  dare  to  love — we 
can  love  Him.  The  distance  and  the  dignity  of  the  infinite  are 
vailed,  and  we  hail  a  Brother,  and  receive  a  Friend  and  a  Benefactor 
into  our  swellins;  hearts. 


DISCOURSE  SEVENTY.EIGHTH. 

JOHN    SUMMERFIELD,    A.M. 

The  "  seraphic  Summei-field,"  as  he  has  often  been  called,  was  born 
in  England,  January  31,  1798,  and  came  to  New  York  m  1821.  His 
appearance,  like  a  bright  comet  shooting  athwart  the  heavens,  attracted 
universal  admiration.  Crowds  flocked  to  the  places  where  he  was  to 
preach,  and  hung  with  emotions  of  wonder  and  delight  upon  his  lips. 
His  course,  however,  was  destined  to  be  as  short  as  it  was  brilliant. 
Health  failed  him,  and  on  this  account  he  was  compelled  to  visit  France 
in  1823  ;  but  the  mUd  climate  proving  of  no  avaU,  he  returned  to  New 
York,  and  died  June  13,  1825,  aged  twenty-seven  years. 

As  a  field-preacher,  Summerfield  stood  alongside  of  Whitfield  in  pow- 
erful, persuasive  eloquence.  An  eye-witness  has  said  of  him : — "  In  very 
early  life,  a  student  in  Washington  city,  I  heard  the  famous  Summer- 
field,  a  young  Methodist  itinerant.  His  face  and  form  were  of  womanly, 
almost  of  angelic  beauty.  A  di\dne  luster  beamed  m  his  eyes.  His 
clear,  full,  sonorous  toice  fell  like  the  tones  of  a  mountain-bell  one  mo- 
ment, and  anon  came  crashmg,  thundering  down,  with  terrible  effect,  on 
the  startled  masses,  forcing  them  to  cry  aloud  and  crowd  together,  with 
uplifted  arms,  as  though  for  shelter  from  an  impending  avalanche.  His 
eloquence  shook  sin  from  its  citadels,  and  dragged  vice  and  fashion  from 
their  '  pride  of  place.'  The  sensation  he  produced  was  tremendous,  and 
multitudes  followed  his  footsteps." 

Much  of  Suimnerfield's  power  over  an  audience  was  doubtless  due  to 
his  manner  and  action,  wliich  are  said  to  have  been  perfect.  His  style 
of  address,  also,  was  simple  and  natural,  and  the  truths  he  presented 
were  such  as  were  instinctively  responded  to  by  the  human  heart.  This 
admirable  simplicity  of  style  could  not  fail  to  produce  its  effect.  But 
the  peculiar  charm  seems  to  have  been  his  meekness^  sweet  humihty,  fer- 
vent piety,  and  lowliness  of  spirit.  Every  one  saw  in  him,  as  it  were, 
the  personification  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus,  and  could  not  but  ad- 
mu'e  and  love. 

But  few,  if  any,  of  Sumraerfield's  sermons  were  written  out  in  full, 
as  he  preached  from  a  brief  outline.  He  was,  however,  m  the  habit  of 
writing  down  from  recollection  what  he  had  delivered ;  and  to  this  we 


540  JOHN    SUMMERFIELD. 

owe  the  volume  of  sketches  and  sermons  which  has  been  given  to  the 
public.  James  Montgomery,  the  poet,  ha\dng  examined  a  volume  of 
his  sei-mons,  in  manuscript,  remarked  of  them  :  "  They  are  exceedingly 
methodical  in  plan  and  in  execittion  ;  they  are  distinguished  chiefly  by 
sound  doctrine,  exact  judgment,  and  severe  abstinence  from  ornament." 
Many  of  his  sermons  are  of  real  value,  containing  striking  thoughts  and 
beautiful  imagery.  To  this  class  belongs  the  one  which  we  have 
selected. 


THE  HEAVENLY  INHERITANCE. 

"  For  so  an  entrance  shall  be  ministered  nnto  you  abundantly  into  the  everlasting 
kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ." — 2  Peter,  i.  11. 

Of  all  the  causes  which  may  be  adduced  to  account  for  the  indif- 
ference which  is  so  generally  manifested  toward  those  great  concerns 
of  eternit}^,  in  which  men  are  so  awfully  interested,  none  appears  to 
me  so  likely  to  resolve  the  mysterj^,  as  that  unbelief  which  lies  at  the 
core  of  every  heart,  hindering  repentance,  and  so  making  faith  im- 
possible. Men  hear  that  there  is  a  hell  to  shun,  a  heaven  to  win ; 
and,  though  they  give  their  assent  to  both  these  truths,  they  never 
impress  them  on  their  mind.  It  is  plain  that,  whatever  their  lips  may 
confess,  they  never  believed  with  the  heart,  otherwise  some  effect 
would  have  been  produced  in  the  life.  The  germ  of  unbelief  lies 
within,  and  discovers  itself  in  all  that  indifference  which  is  dis- 
played, in  the  majority  of  that  class  of  beings  whose  existence  is  to 
be  perpetuated  throughout  eternit3\ 

If  these  thoughts  do  sometimes  obtrude  themselves  on  their 
serious  attention,  they  are  immediately  banished  from  their  minds ; 
and  the  dying  exclamation  of  Moses  may  be  taken  up  with  tears  by 
every  lover  of  perishing  sinners :  "  0 !  that  they  were  wise,  that 
they  understood  this,  that  they  would  consider  their  latter  end !" 
"When  God,  by  His  prophet  Isaiah,  called  the  Israelites  to  a  sense  of 
their  awful  departure  from  Him,  His  language  was,  "  My  people  do 
not  know  :  My  people  do  not  consider."  How  few  are  there  like 
Mary,  who  "ponder  these  things  in  their  heart,"  who  are  willing  to 
look  at  themselves,  to  pry  into  eternity,  to  put  the  question  home, 

"  Shall  T  be  with  the  damn'd  cast  out, 
Or  numbered  with  the  blcss'd?" 

This  question  must  sooner  or  later  hav  e  a  place  in  your  minds,  or 
awful  will  be  your  state  indeed ;  let  it  reach  your  hearts  to-day  ;  and 


THE    HEAVENLY    INHERITANCE.  541 

if  you  pray  to  the  Father  of  light,  you  will  soon  be  enabled  in  His 
light  to  discern  so  much  of  yourselves  as  will  cause  you  to  cry, 
"What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?"  While  we  shall  this  morning  at- 
tempt to  point  out  some  of  the  privileges  of  the  sons  of  God,  0  ! 
may  your  hearts  catch  the  strong  desire  to  be  conformed  to  the  liv- 
ing Head,  that  so  an  abundant  entrance  may  be  administered  unto 
you  also,  into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ. 

The  privilege  to  which  our  text  leads  us,  is  exclusively  applicable 
to  those  to  whom  that  question  has  been  solved  by  the  Spirit  of  God ; 
those  who  have  believed  to  the  saving  of  their  souls ;  who  have  ex- 
perienced redemption  through  His  blood,  and  the  forgiveness  of 
sins ;  and  who  are  walking  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord  and  in  the  com- 
fort of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

L  The  state  to  which  we  look  forward :  the  "everlasting  kingdom 
of  our  Lord  and  Saviour." 

1.  It  is  a  hingdonii.  By  this  figurative  expression  our  Lord  has 
described  the  state  of  grace  here  and  of  glory  hereafter ;  our  happi- 
ness in  time  and  our  happiness  in  eternity.  They  were  wisely  so 
called  :  Jesus  has  said  as  well  as  done  all  things  well ;  for  these  two 
states  differ  not  in  kind,  but  in  degree  ;  the  one  is  merely  a  prepara- 
tive for  the  other,  and  he  who  has  been  a  subject  of  the  former  king- 
dom will  be  a  subject  of  the  latter.  Grace  is  but  the  seed  of  glory, 
glory  is  the  maturity  of  grace ;  grace  is  but  the  bud  of  glory,  glory 
is  grace  full  blown  ;  grace  is  but  the  blossom  of  glory,  glory  is  the 
ripe  fruit  of  grace ;  grace  is  but  the  infant  of  glory,  glory  is  the 
perfection  of  grace.  Hence  our  hymn  beautifully  says,  "  The  men 
of  grace  have  found  glory  begun  below,"  agreeing  with  our  Lord's 
own  words,  "  He  that  believeth  hath  everlasting  life ;"  he  feels  even 
here  its  glories  beginning — a  foretaste  of  its  bliss. 

Now  the  propriety  with  which  these  two  states  are  called  Icing- 
doms,  is  manifest  from  the  analogy  which  might  be  traced  between 
them  and  the  model  of  a  human  sovereignty.  Two  or  three  of  the 
outlines  of  this  model  will  be  sufiicient. 

In  the  idea  of  a  kingdom  it  is  implied  that  in  some  part  of  its 
extent,  there  is  the  residence  of  a  sovereign  ;  for  this  is  essential  to 
constitute  it.  Now  in  the  kingdom  of  grace  the  heart  of  the  believer 
is  made  the  residence  of  the  King  Invisible !  •'  Know  ye  not  that 
your  body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost  which  is  in  you  ?"  Such 
know  what  that  promise  means,  "  I  will  dwell  in  them,  and  they  shall 
be  My  people."     St.  Paul  exultingly  cries,  "  Christ  liveth  in  me." 

Again,  it  is  essential  that  the  inhabitants  of  a  kingdom  be  under 


542  JOHN    SUMMERPIELD. 

the  government  of  its  laws.  An  empire  without  laws  is  no  sover- 
eignty at  all ;  it  ceases  to  be  such,  for  every  inhabitant  has  an  equal 
right  to  do  that  which  seems  good  in  his  own  eyes.  Now  the  sub- 
jects of  Christ's  kingdom  of  grace  are  "  not  without  law,  but  are 
under  a  law  to  Christ;"  they  do  His  righteous  will!  Lastly,  it  is 
essential  that  the  subjects  of  a  kingdom  be  under  the  protection  of 
the  presiding  monarch,  and  that  they  repose  their  confidence  in  Him. 
To  the  subjects  of  the  kingdom  of  grace,  Christ  imparts  His  kingly 
protection  ;  this  is  their  heritage :  "  No  weapon  formed  against  them 
shall  prosper ;"  nay,  He  imparts  to  them  of  His  royal  bounty,  and 
they  enjoy  all  the  blessings  of  an  inward  heaven. 

But  how  great  the  perfection  of  the  kingdom  of  glory  mentioned 
in  our  text !  Does  He  make  these  vile  bodies  His  residence  here  ? 
How  much  more  glorious  is  His  temple  above !  how  splendid  the 
court  of  heaven !  There,  indeed.  He  fixes  His  throne,  and  they  see 
Him  as  He  is.  Does  He  exercise  His  authority  here,  and  rule  His 
hapj)y  subjects  by  the  law,  the  perfect  law  of  love?  How  much 
more  in  heaven !  He  reigns  there  forever  over  them ;  His  govern- 
ment is  there  wholly  by  Himself;  He  knows  nothing  of  a  rival 
there ;  His  rule  is  sole  and  perfect :  there  they  serve  Him  day  and 
night.  Are  His  subjects  here  partakers  of  His  kingly  bounty? 
Much  more  in  heaven  !  He  calls  them  to  a  participation  of  all  the 
joys,  the  spiritual  joys  which  are  at  His  right  hand,  and  the  pleasures 
which  are  there  forevermore.  Yet,  after  all  our  descriptions  of  that 
glory,  it  is  not  yet  revealed,  and,  therefore,  inconceivable.  But  who 
would  not  hail  such  a  Son  of  David  ?  who  would  not  desire  to  be 
swayed  by  such  a  Prince  of  Peace  ?  Whose  heart  would  not  as- 
cend with  the  affections  of  our  poet,  "0!  that  with  yonder  sacred 
throng,  we  at  His  feet  may  fall  ?" 

2.  But  it  is  an  everlasting  kingdom !  Here  it  rises  in  the  scale 
of  comparison.  Weigh  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  in  this  balance, 
and  they  are  found  wanting ;  for  on  many  we  read  their  fatal  history, 
and  ere  long  we  shall  see  them  all  branded  with  the  writing  of  the 
Invisible  Agent,  "  The  kingdom  is  taken  from  thee,  and  given  to  a 
nation  bringing  forth  the  fruits  thereof;"  "  For  the  kingdoms  of  this 
world  have  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  of  His  Christ ;" 
they  will  be  all  absorbed  and  swallowed  up  in  the  fullness  of  eter- 
nity, and  leave  not  a  wreck  behind  !  Every  thing  here  is  perisha- 
ble I  The  towering  diadem  of  Ctesar  has  fallen  from  his  head  and 
crumbled  into  dust ;  and  that  kingdom  whose  scepter  once  swayed 
the  world,  betwixt  whose  colossal  stride  all  nations  were  glad  to 
creep  to  find  themselves  dishonored  graves,  is  now  forgotten,  or,  if 


THE    HEAVENLY    INHERITANCE.  543 

its  recollection  be  preserved,  its  history  is  empliatically  called  "The 
Decline  and  Fall." 

But  bring  the  matter  nearer  home ;  apply  not  to  multitudes  of 
subjects,  but  to  your  individual  experience,  and  has  not  that  good 
Teacher  instructed  you  in  this  sad  lesson  ?  We  tremble  to  look  at 
our  earthly  possessions  and  employments,  l^est  we  should  see  them 
in  motion,  sjjreading  their  wings  to  fly  away  !  How  many  are  there 
already  who,  in  talking  of  their  comforts,  are  obliged  to  go  back  in 
their  reckoning !  Would  not  this  be  the  language  of  some  of  you : 
"  I  had — I  had  a  husband,  the  sharer  of  my  joys,  the  soother  of  my 
sorrows ;  but  he  is  not !  I  had  a  wife,  a  helpmeet  for  me ;  but  where 
is  she  ?  I  had  children  to  whom  I  looked  up  as  my  support  and 
staff  in  the  decline  of  life,  while  passing  down  the  hill ;  but  I  am 
bereaved  of  my  children !  I  had  health,  and  I  highly  prized  its 
wealth ;  but  now  my  emaciated  frame,  my  shriveled  system,  and 
the  pains  of  nature  bespeak  that  comfort  fled!  I  liad^  or  fondly 
thought  I  had,  happiness  in  possession !  Then  I  said  with  Job,  "  I 
shall  die  in  my  nest !"  but  ah  !  an  unexpected  blast  passed  over  me, 
and  now  my  joys  are  blighted !  "  They  have  fled  as  a  shadow,  and 
continued  not."  Yes !  time  promised  you  much !  perhaps  it  per- 
formed a  little ;  but  it  can  not  do  any  thing  for  you  on  which  it  can 
grave  eternal.  Its  name  is  mortal,  its  nature  is  decay ;  it  was  born 
with  man,  and  when  the  generations  of  men  shall  cease  to  exist,  it 
will  cease  also:  "  Time  shall  be  no  longer!"  We  know  concerning 
these  that,  "  All  flesh  is  as  grass,  and  all  the  glory  of  man  as  the 
flower  of  grass.  The  grass  withereth,  and  the  flower  fadeth,  but  the 
word  of  the  Lord  endureth  forever."  Yes !  His  kingdom  is  an  ever- 
lasting kingdom ;  glory  can  not  corrupt !  the  crown  of  glory  can  not 
fade!  Why?  Death  will  be  destroyed;  Christ  will  put  this  last 
enemy  under  His  feet,  and  all  will  then  be  eternal  life  !  Oh  happy, 
happy  kingdom ;  nay,  thrice  happy  he  who  shall  be  privileged  to  be 
its  subject ! 

3.  It  is  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our  own  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ.  It  is  His  by  claim :  "  Him  hath  God  the  Father  highly 
exalted;"  yea.  Him  hath  He  appointed  to  be  "the  Judge  of  quick 
and  dead;"  for  though  "by  the  sufferings  of  death  He  was  made  a 
little  lower  than  the  angels,"  yet  immediately  after  His  resurrection 
He  declares  that  now  "All  power  is  given  unto  him  in  heaven  and 
in  earth  !"  The  Father  hath  committed  all  judgment  unto  the  Son, 
and  He  has  now  the  disposal  of  the  offices  and  privileges  of  the  em- 
pire among  His  faithful  followers.  This  is  the  idea  that  the  penitent 
dying  thief  had  on  the  subject :  "  Lord  remember  me  when  Thou 


544  JOHN    SUMMERFIELD. 

comest  into  Thy  kingdom ;"  and  St.  Paul  expresses  the  same  when 
he  says  to  Timothy  in  the  confidence  of  faith,  "  The  Lord  shall  de- 
liver me  and  preserve  me  unto  His  heavenly  kingdom."  Oh  !  how 
pleasing  the  thought  to  the  child  of  God,  that  his  ruler  to  all  eter- 
nity will  be  his  elder  Brother  ;  for  He  who  sanctifieth  and  they  who 
are  sanctified  are  all  of  one  ;  and  though  He  is  heir  of  all  things,  yet 
we,  as  younger  branches  of  the  same  heavenly  family,  shall  be  joint 
heirs,  fellow-heirs  of  the  same  glorious  inheritance.  How  great  will 
be  our  joy  to  behold  Him  who  humbled  Himself  for  ns  to  death, 
even  the  death  of  the  cross,  now  exalted  God  over  all,  blessed  for 
evermore  ;  and  while  contemplating  Him  under  the  character  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  how  great  the  relish  which  will  be 
given  to  that  feeling  of  the  redeemed  which  will  constrain  them  to  cry, 
"  Thou  alone  art  worthy  to  receive  glory,  and  honor,  and  power." 

II.  But  the  apostle  reminds  us  of  the  entrance  into  this  king- 
dom 1 

1.  The  entrance  into  this  kingdom  is  death:  "By  one  man  sin 
entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin :" 

"Death,  like  a  narrow  sea,  divides 
That  heavenly  land  from  ours  I" 

"A  messenger  is  sent  to  bring  us  to  God,  but  it  is  the  King  of 
Terrors,  We  enter  the  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey,  but  it  is 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death."  Yet  fear  not,  0  thou 
child  of  God !  there  is  no  need  that  thou,  through  the  fear  of  death, 
shouldst  be  all  thy  lifetime  subject  to  bondage. 

2.  No ;  hear  the  apostle :  the  entrance  is  ministered  unto  thee  ! 
Death  is  but  His  minister;  he  can  not  lock  his  ice-cold  hand  in  thine 
till  He  permit.  Our  Jesus  has  the  keys  of  hell  and  death  ;  and  till  He 
liberates  the  vassal  to  bring  thee  home,  not  a  hair  of  thy  head  can  fall 
to  the  ground !  Fear  not,  thou  worm  !  He  who  minds  the  sparrows 
appoints  the  time  for  thy  removal :  fear  not ;  only  be  thou  always 
ready,  that,  whenever  the  Messenger  comes  to  take  down  the  taber- 
nacle in  which  thy  spirit  has  long  made  her  abode,  thou  mayest  be 
able  to  exclaim,  "  Amen !  even  so.  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly." 
Death  need  have  no  terrors  for  thee ;  he  is  the  vassal  of  thy  Lord, 
and,  however  unwilling  to  do  him  reverence,  yet  to  him  that  sits  at 
God's  right  hand  shall  even  death  pay,  if  not  a  joyful,  yet  a  trem- 
bling homage  ;  nay,  more  : 

"  To  Him  shall  earth  and  hell  submit, 
And  every  foe  shall  fall, 
Till  death  expires  beneath  His  feet, 
And  God  is  all  in  aU." 


THE    HEAVENLY    INHERITANCE.  545 

Christ  has  already  had  one  triumph  over  death ;  His  iron  pangs 
could  not  detain  the  Prince  who  has  "  life  in  Himself;'  and  in  His 
strength  thou  shalt  triumph,  for  the  power  of  Christ  is  promised  to 
rest  upon  thee !  He  has  had  the  same  entrance ;  His  footsteps 
marked  the  way,  and  His  cry  to  thee  is,  "Follow  thou  Me."  "My 
sheep,"  says  He,  "Hear  My  voice,  and  they  do  follow  Me;"  they 
follow  Me  gladly,  even  into  this  gloomy  vale ;  and  what  is  the  con- 
sequence? "They  shall  never  perish,  neither  shall  any  man  pluck 
them  out  of  My  hand." 

8.  It  is  ministered  unto  you  abundantly.  Perhaps  the  apostle 
means  that  the  death  of  some  is  distinguished  by  indulgences  and 
honors  not  vouchsafed  to  all.  In  the  experience  of  some,  the  pas- 
sage appears  difScult ;  in  others  it  is  comparatively  easy ;  they  gently 
fall  asleep  in  Jesus.  But  we  not  only  see  diversities  in  the  mortal 
agony — this  would  be  a  small  thing.  *  *  *  Some  get  in  with 
sails  full  spread  and  carrying  a  rich  cargo  indeed,  while  others  arrive 
barely  on  a  single  plank.  Some,  who  have  long  had  their  conver- 
sation in  heaven,  are  anxious  to  be  wafted  into  the  celestial  haven; 
while  others,  who  never  sought  God  till  alarmed  at  the  speedy  ap- 
proach of  death,  have  little  confidence, 

"And  linger  shivering  on  the  brink, 
And  fear  to  launch  away." 

This  doctrine  must  have  been  peculiarly  encouraging  to  the  early 
converts  to  whom  St.  Peter  wrote.  From  the  tenor  of  both  of  his 
epistles  it  is  clear  that  they  were  in  a  state  of  severe  suffering,  and 
in  great  danger  of  apostatizing  through  fear  of  persecution.  He 
reminds  them  that  if  they  hold  fast  their  professions,  an  abundant 
entrance  will  be  ministered  unto  them.  The  death  of  the  martyr  is 
far  more  glorious  than  that  of  the  Christian  who  concealed  his  pro- 
fession through  fear  of  man.  Witness  the  case  of  Stephen  :  he  was 
not  ashamed  of  being  a  witness  for  Jesus  in  the  face  of  the  violent 
death  which  awaited  him,  and  which  crushed  the  tabernacle  of  his 
devoted  spirit ;  his  Lord  reserved  the  highest  display  of  His  love 
and  of  His  glory  for  that  awful  hour!  "Behold!"  says  he  to  his 
enemies,  while  gnashing  on  him  with  their  teeth,  "Behold!  I  see 
heaven  opened,  and  the  Son  of  man  standing  on  the  right  hand  of 
God:"  then,  in  the  full  triumph  of  faith,  he  cries  out,  "Lord  Jesus! 
receive  my  spirit!" 

But  did  these  things  apply  merely  to  the  believers  to  whom  St. 
Peter  originally  wrote?  No;  you  are  the  men  to  whom  the}^  equally 
apply ;  according  to  your  walk  and  profession  of  that  Gospel  will  be 

35 


546  JOHN    SUMMERFIELD. 

the  entrance  whicli  will  be  ministered  unto  you.  Some  of  you  have 
heard,  in  another  of  our  houses,  during  the  past  week,  the  danger- 
ous tendency  of  the  spirit  of  fear,  the  fear  of  man.  I  would  you 
had  all  heard  that  discourse  :  alas!  many  who  have  a  name  and  a 
place  among  us  are  becoming  mere  Sabbath-day  worshipers  in  the 
courts  of  the  Lord,  and  lightly  esteem  the  daily  means  of  grace.  I 
believe  this  is  one  cause  at  least  why  many  are  weak  and  sickly 
among  us  in  divine  things.  The  inner  man  does  not  make  due  in- 
crease  ;  the  world  is  stealing  a  march  unawares  upon  us.  May  God 
revive  among  us  the  spirit  of  our  fathers ! 

These  things,  then,  I  say,  equally  apply  to  you.  Behold  the 
strait,  the  royal,  the  king's  highway  !  Are  you  afraid  of  the  reproach 
of  Christ  ? 

"  Ashamed  of  Jesus,  that  dear  Friend 
On  whom  our  hopes  of  heaven  depend  ?" 

How  soon  would  the  world  be  overcome  if  all  who  profess  that  faith 
were  faithful  to  it !  Woe  to  the  rebellious  children  who  compromise 
truth  with  the  world,  and  in  effect  deny  their  Lord  and  Master ! 
Who  hath  required  this  at  their  hands  ?  Do  they  not  follow  with 
the  crowd  who  cry,  "Lord,  Lord!  and  yet  do  not  the  things  which 
He  says  ?"  Will  they  have  the  adoption  and  the  glory  ?  Will  they 
aim  at  the  honor  implied  in  these  words,  "  Ye  are  my  witnesses  ?" 
Will  ye  indeed  be  sons  ?  Then  see  the  path  wherein  His  footsteps 
shine !  The  way  is  open !  see  that  ye  walk  therein !  The  false 
apostles,  the  deceitful  workers  shall  have  their  reward  ;  the  same 
that  those  of  old  had,  the  praise  and  esteem  of  men ;  while  the  faith 
of  those  who  truly  call  Him  Father  and  Lord,  and  who  walk  in  the 
light  as  He  is  in  the  light,  who  submit,  like  Him  and  His  true  follow- 
ers, to  be  counted  as  "  the  filth  of  the  world,  and  the  offscouring  of 
all  things,  shall  be  found  unto  praise,  and  honor,  and  glory  ! 

The  true  Christian  does  not  seek  to  hide  himself  in  a  corner ;  he 
lets  his  light  shine  before  men,  whether  they  will  receive  it  or  not ; 
and  thereby  is  his  Father  glorified.  Having  thus  served,  by  the 
will  of  God,  the  hour  of  his  departure  at  length  arrives.  The  angels 
beckon  him  away  ;  Jesus  bids  him  come  ;  and  as  he  departs  this  life 
he  looks  back  with  a  heavenly  smile  on  surviving  friends,  and  is 
enabled  to  say,  "  Whither  I  go,  ye  know,  and  the  way  ye  know." 
An  entrance  is  ministered  unto  him  abundantly  into  the  everlasting 
kingdom  of  his  Lord  and  Saviour. 

III.  Having  considered  the  state  to  which  we  look,  and  the  mode 
of  our  admission,  let  us  consider  the  condition  of  it.  This  is  implied 
in  the  word  "  50."     For  so  an  entrance  shall  be  ministered  unto  you. 


THE    HEAVENLY    INHERITANCE.  547 

In  the  preceding  part  of  this  chapter,  the  apostle  has  pointed  out  the 
meaning  of  this  expression,  and  in  the  text  merely  sums  it  all  up  in 
that  short  mode  of  expression. 

The  first  condition  he  shows  to  be,  the  obtaining  like  precious 
faith  with  him,  through  the  righteousness  of  God  and  our  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ.  Not  a  faith  which  merely  assents  to  the  truths  of  the 
Gospel  record,  but  a  faith  which  applies  the  merits  of  the  death  of 
Christ  to  expiate  my  individual  guilt ;  which  lays  hold  on  Him  as 
my  sacrifice,  and  produces,  in  its  exercises,  peace  with  God,  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  divine  favor,  a  sense  of  sin  forgiven,  and  a  full  certainty, 
arising  from  a  divine  impression  on  the  heart,  made  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  that  I  am  accepted  in  the  Beloved  and  made  a  child  of  God. 

If  those  who  profess  the  Gospel  of  Christ  were  but  half  as  zeal- 
ous in  seeking  after  this  enjoyment,  as  they  are  in  discovering  crea- 
turely  objections  to  its  attainment,  it  would  be  enjoyed  by  thousands 
who  at  present  know  nothing  of  its  happy  reality.  Such  persons,  un- 
fortunately for  themselves,  employ  much  more  assiduity  in  searching 
a  vocabulary  to  find  out  epithets  of  reproach  to  attach  to  those  who 
maintain  the  doctrine,  than  in  searching  that  volume  which  declares 
that  "  if  you  are  sons,  God  has  sent  forth  thd  Spirit  of  His  Son  into 
your  hearts,  crying  Abba,  Father ;"  and  that  "  he  that  believeth  hath 
the  witness  in  himself"  In  whatever  light  a  scorncr  may  view  this 
doctrine  now,  the  time  will  come  when,  being  found  without  the 
wedding  garment,  he  will  be  cast  into  outer  darkness. 

O  sinner !  cry  to  God  this  day  to  convince  thee  of  thy  need  of 
this  salvation,  and  then  thou  wilt  be  in  a  condition  to  receive  it : 

"  Shalt  know,  shalt  feel  tliy  sins  forgiven, 
Bless'd  with  this  antepast  of  heaven." 

But,  besides  this,  the  apostle  requires  that  we  then  henceforth 
preserve  consciences  void  of  offense  toward  God  and  toward  man. 
This  faith  which  obtains  the  forgiveness  of  sin  unites  to  Christ,  and 
by  this  union  we  are  made,  as  St.  Peter  declares,  '*  partakers  of  the 
Divine  nature :"  and  as  He  who  has  called  you  is  holy,  so  you  are  to 
be  holy  in  all  manner  of  conversation.  For  yours  is  a  faith  which 
not  only  casts  out  sin,  but  purifies  the  heart — the  conscience  having 
been  once  purged  by  the  sprinkling  of  the  blood  of  Christ,  you  are 
not  to  suffer  guilt  to  be  again  contracted ;  for  the  salvation  of  Christ 
is  not  only  from  the  penalty,  but  from  the  very  stain  of  sin ;  not 
only  from  its  guilt,  but  from  its  pollution  ;  not  only  from  its  con- 
demnation, but  from  its  very  in-being:  "The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
cleanseth  from  all  sin  ;"  and  "  For  this  purpose  was  the  Son  of  God 


548  JOHN    SUMMEEPIELD. 

manifested,  that  He  miglit  destroy  tlie  works  of  tlie  devil."  Yoa 
are  therefore  required  by  St.  Peter,  "  to  escape  the  corruption  that  is 
in  the  world  through  lust,"  and  thus  to  perfect  hoHness  in  the  fear 
of  the  Lord ! 

Finally,  live  in  progressive  and  practical  godliness.  Not  only 
possess,  but  practice  the  virtues  of  religion  ;  not  only  practice,  but 
increase  therein,  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord !  Lead  up,  hand 
in  hand,  in  the  same  delightful  chorus,  all  the  graces  which  adorn  the 
Christian  character.  Having  the  Divine  nature,  possessing  a  new  and 
living  principle,  let  diligent  exercise  reduce  it  to  practical  holiness ; 
and  you  will  be  easily  discerned  from  those  formal  hypocrites,  whose 
faith  and  rehgion  are  but  a  barren  and  unfruitful  speculation. 

To  conclude :  live  to  God — live  for  Grod — live  in  God ;  and  let 
your  moderation  be  known  unto  all  men — the  Lord  is  at  hand : 
"Therefore  giving  all  diligence,  add  to  your  faith  virtue;  and  to 
virtue,  knowledge  ;  and  to  knowledge,  temperance  :  and  to  temper- 
ance, patience ;  and  to  patience,  godliness ;  and  to  godliness, 
brotherly  kindness ;  and  to  brotherly  kindness,  charity." 


DISCOURSE    SEVENTY.NINTH. 

BEL  A     B.     EDWARDS,    D.  D. 

Professor  Edwards  was  born  at  Southampton,  Massachusetts,  on  the 
4th  of  July,  1802.  He  sprang  from  that  old  Welsh  family  which  em- 
braces among  its  descendants  the  two  Jonathan  Edwards,  and  President 
D wight.  He  was  graduated  at  Amherst  College,  in  1824,  and  having 
become  pious  during  his  collegiate  course,  commenced  his  career 
of  distinguished  usefulness.  A  year  was  first  spent  in  superintending 
the  Academy  at  Ashfield,  where  his  studies  were  kept  up  with  great  dil- 
igence. In  1825  he  entered  the  Andover  Theological  Institution,  and  in 
doing  it,  "  entered  on  the  elysium  of  his  life."  At  the  close  of  the  first  year 
he  was  called  to  a  tutorship  in  Amherst  College,  which  office  he  filled  for 
two  years.  On  the  8th  of  May,  1828,  he  was  elected  Assistant  Secretary 
of  the  Ameiican  Education  Society,  and  while  discharging  the  duties  of 
that  office,  resided  at  Andover,  where  he  pursued,  meanwhile,  the  studies 
of  the  two  remaining  years  in  the  Seminary. 

In  1833  Mr,  Edwards  established  the  American  Quarterly  Observer, 
which,  three  years  after,  was  miited  with  the  Biblical  Repository.  He 
remained  sole  editor  of  these  combined  periodicals  from  January,  1835, 
to  January,  1838.  In  the  autumn  of  1837  he  was  appomted  Professor  of 
the  Hebrew  language  in  the  Seminary  at  Andover;  and  in  1848  was 
elected  to  the  chair  of  Biblical  Literature.  In  this  occupation,  as  a  Bib- 
lical teacher,  he  spent  the  remainder  of  his  life.  It  was  on  the  20th  of 
Api'il,  1852,  that  he  yielded  to  the  ravages  of  a  pulmonary  disease,  long 
preying  upon  him,  and  breathed  out  his  spirit  "just  as  an  infant  falls 
asleep." 

As  a  Christian,  Professor  Edwards  walked  in  all  humility  and  devo- 
tion with  his  God.  As  a  scholar  and  editor,  he  gained  the  profoundest 
respect,  and  has  left  the  abiding  imprint  of  his  genius  upon  the  theolog- 
ical literature  of  the  country.  For  twenty-three  years  he  was  employed 
in  superintending  some  of  the  most  solid  and  influential  periodical  issues 
in  the  world.  As  a  friend  and  advocate  of  ministerial  education,  and  as 
a  Biblical  teacher,  few  men  have  done  more  to  elevate  the  ministry  than 
he.     As  a  preacher,  he  lacked  the  elements  of  a  jjulpit  orator ;  but  his 


550  BELA    B.    EDWARDS. 

terse,  sententious  utterances,  and  Ms  classic  purity  of  style,  fascinated  the 
appreciative  hearers,  and  rivetted  their  attention  to  the  great  truths 
brought  before  them.  It  has  been  said  of  his  sermons  that  "  they  were 
free  from  common-places,  and  had  a  luxuriance  of  thought  and  feeling 
which  reminded  one  of  the  trees  with  their  branches  bending  and  break- 
ing under  their  fruit."  Professor  E.  A.  Park,  D.  D.,  has  given  to  the 
world,  in  two  volumes  12mo,  with  a  memoir,  many  of  the  sermons  and 
other  writings  of  Professor  Edwards.  That  which  is  here  given  is  the 
first  of  the  series,  and  has  been  justly  pronounced  "an  exquisite  example 
of  practical  exposition,  founded  on  the  nicest  analysis,  and  the  deej)est 
insight  of  feeling."     It  is  a  thing  of  beauty  from  beginning  to  ending. 


THE  HUNDEED  AND  THIRTY-NINTH  PSALM. 

The  book  of  Psalms  has  ever  been  regarded  in  the  Christian 
Church  as  an  overflowing  fountaiu  of  religious  experience.  "  Where 
do  we  find,"  says  Luther,  "a  sweeter  voice  of  joy  than  in  the  Psalms 
of  thanksgiving  and  praise  ?  There  you  look  into  tlie  heart  of  all 
the  godly  as  into  a  beautiful  garden — as  into  heaven  itself.  What 
delicate,  sweet,  and  lovely  flowers  are  there  springing  up  of  all  man- 
ner of  beautiful,  joyous  thoughts  toward  God  and  His  goodness !  On 
the  other  hand,  where  do  you  find  more  profound,  mournful,  pa- 
thetic expressions  of  sorrow  than  the  plaintive  Psalms  contain  ?  The 
Psalter  forms,  as  it  were,  a  little  book  for  all  saints,  in  which  every 
man,  in  whatever  situation  he  may  be  placed,  shall  find  Psalms  and 
sentiments  which  shall  apply  to  his  own  case,  and  be  the  same  to 
him  as  if  they  were  for  his  own  sake  alone ;  so  expressed  as  he  could 
not  express  them  himself,  nor  find  nor  even  wish  them  better  than 
they  are." 

But  admirably  fitted  as  the  Psalms  are  for  all  the  varieties  of 
Christian  experience,  meditated  upon  and  practically  used  as  they 
have  been  in  all  ages,  still  they  are  not,  as  they  might  be,  the  cher- 
ished companions,  the  trusty  guides,  of  all  who  would  walk  safely 
along  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  Much  oftener  than  they 
do,  might  Christians  rej^air  to  these  deep  wells  of  salvation.  More 
at  leisure,  with  less  hurried  step,  they  might  wander  over  these  green 
pastures.  Richer  and  far  more  varied  nutriment  these  bountiful 
storehouses  supply,  than  the  casual  visitor  imagines.  Mines  of 
wealth  yet  unexplored  still  exist  to  reward  the  patient  laborer. 

The  partial  and  unsatisfactory  use  which  is  often  made  of  the 


THE    HUNDRED    AND    THIRTY-NINTH    PSALM.         551 

Psalms,  may  be  accounted  for  from  a  variety  of  causes,  in  addition 
to  tlie  want  of  an  appreciating  and  sympathizing  disposition  in  tlie 
reader. 

Some  of  the  Psalms,  and  passages  in  many  of  them,  allude  to  a 
state  of  society,  pre-suppose  a  condition  of  manners  and  general  in- 
tercourse,  which  is  Oriental,  or  which  has  passed  away,  or  with  which. 
we  have  not  been  educated  to  sympathize.  The  allusion,  the  ilhis- 
tration,  is  interposed  in  the  midst  of  the  finest  strains  of  devotion, 
and  in  passages  of  religious  experience  to  which  there  would  be  a 
universal  response,  were  not  the  effect  somewhat  marred,  were  not  a 
dissonant  chord  struck  by  some  expression  which  seems  at  least  not 
in  perfect  keeping,  and  which  possibly  is  somewhat  repulsive.  This 
intervening  thought  does  not  accord  with  our  ideas  of  propriety,  or 
it  occasions  some  break  in  the  otherwise  delightful  flow  of  emotions. 

But  we  forget  that  many  of  these  compositions  must  have  a  local 
coloring,  must  betray  the  times,  countries,  state  of  societ}^,  in  the 
midst  of  v;hich  they  had  their  origin.  Otherwise  they  would  lose 
all  verisimilitude.  We  should  be  deprived  of  all  power  of  identify- 
ing them  as  genuine  and  trustworthy  productions.  Besides,  we  are 
not  authorized  to  set  up  our  peculiar  predilections  and  antipathies 
as  the  unvarying  standard  for  all  nations  and  ages.  There  may  be 
a  beauty  and  pertinence  in  illustrating  the  glories  of  the  Messiah's 
reign  by  an  Oriental  royal  wedding,  with  all  its  gorgeous  accompani- 
ments, which  loe  do  not  and  can  not  perceive. 

Another  difficulty  consists  in  the  suddenness  of  the  transitions. 
Light  and  darkness  interchange  with  the  utmost  rapidity.  Abrupt- 
ness of  emotion,  an  extraordinary  vacillation  in  religious  experience, 
characterize  many  of  these  productions.  The  most  joyous  and  con- 
fident assurance  is  followed  by  waves  of  trouble.  The  deepest 
melancholy  gives  place  in  a  moment  to  songs  of  thanksgiving.  A 
Psalm  opens  with  passionate  expressions  of  love  to  the  Almighty  ; 
it  closes  Avith  what  seems  to  be  an  unauthorized  anathema  on  His 
enemies.  The  various  passions  which  agitated  the  passionate  wor- 
shiper, are  sometimes  expressed  with  a  familiarity  and  boldness  of 
tone,  with  whicb  Christian  experience  in  later  times  can  not  always 
accord,  or  at  least /ally  sympathize.  There  is,  too,  an  outward,  and, 
as  it  were,  a  public  manifestation  of  this  feeling,  which  might,  at 
first  view,  seem  inconsistent  with  all  retired  and  unobtrusive  sensi- 
bilities. In  tke  present  state  of  society,  in  accordance  with  the 
methods  of  modern  Christian  culture,  there  are  more  uniformity  of 
feeling,  less  violent  outbursts  of  emotion,  less  striking  alterations  in 
the  exercises  of  the  soul.     Or  if  the  emotions  do  rise  as  high  or 


552  BELA    B.    EDWARDS. 

sink  as  low,  tlie  changes  are  less  obvious  to  inspection,  or  are  re- 
strained within  narrower  limits. 

This  difference  may  be  owing  in  part  to  national  temperament, 
or  to  the  unbounded  freedom  with  which  men  living  in  that  age  and 
quarter  of  the  world  expressed  all  their  feelings.  It  may  be  in  part 
owing  also  to  a  more  checkered  experience,  to  sudden  and  more  vio- 
lent reverses  of  Providence,  to  the  more  wonderful  deliverances  with 
which  pious  men  were  then  favored.  The  difference  may  be  also 
owing  in  a  measure  to  our  superficial  feelings,  our  inability  to  com- 
prehend the  depth  of  the  soul's  emotions,  our  living  under  the  con- 
trol of  artificial  or  conventional  properties,  where  free  utterance  is 
not  allowed  to  the  thoughts  ;  the  restraint  operating  to  diminish  and 
dry  up  the  very  fountains  of  feeling. 

Another  reason  why  we  do  not  receive  the  full  practical  impres- 
sion which  some  of  the  Psalms  are  so  fitted  to  produce  is,  that  we  do 
not  read  them  as  a  whole,  we  do  not  find  the  key  which  unlocks  the 
precious  casket ;  we  admit  only  the  effect  which  detached  verses  or 
sentiments  produce.  We  cast  a  glance  on  a  massive  pillar,  on  a 
beautiful  cornice,  on  some  adventitious  decoration.  We  do  not  re- 
ceive the  impression  which  the  great  temple  of  truth,  viewed  as  a 
whole,  is  so  well  fitted  to  make.  The  Psalm,  though  overflowing 
with  emotion  and  sentiment,  and  characterized,  perhaps,  as  among 
the  noblest  specimens  of  inspired  song,  has,  notwithstanding,  perfect 
unity  ;  it  is  designed  to  produce  one  deep  impression  ;  all  its  parts 
are  interwoven ;  all  its  elements  form  one  distinct  and  beautiful 
whole.  Contemplated  by  verses  or  detached  ideas,  it  is  contemplated 
only  in  fragments.  We  can  not  thus  experience  the  effects  which 
its  author  intended  to  produce.  We  stop  at  the  first  stage,  but  the 
regular  gradations  all  terminate  in  the  topmost  and  crowning  stone. 
Because  there  is  deep  emotion  or  the  highest  imagination,  there  is 
not  necessarily  confusion  of  thought,  or  disconnected  ideas.  The 
composition  ma}^  be  bound  together  more  completely  than  if  it  had 
the  ordinary  and  obvious  links.  This  is  one  reason  why  we  should 
search  the  Scriptures,  why  we  should  not  be  satisfied  with  an  indo- 
lent, desultory  reading.  We  are  to  trace  out  the  mind  of  the  in- 
spiring author ;  we  are  to  follow  those  delicate  threads  and  clews,  in- 
visible to  the  cursory  reader ;  we  are  to  toil  up  an  ascent,  perhaps 
steep  and  uninviting,  till  suddenly  appears  the  vast  field  of  truth, 
ravishing  in  its  beauty,  admirable  in  its  proportions,  and  beyond 
whose  distant  horizon  there  seems  to  stretch  away  unknown  and  still 
brighter  realms.  Some  of  these  thoughts,  and  others  related  to 
them,  I  wish  to  illustrate  by  a  brief  examination  of  tlie  hundred  and 


THE    HUNDRED    AND    THIRTY-NINTH    PSALM.         553 

thirty -ninth  Psalm  ;  a  composition  among  the  most  remarkable,  on 
some  accounts,  in  the  collection  ;  fraught  with  the  loftiest  concep- 
tions of  God,  breathing  profound  and  ardent  devotion,  uniting  the 
most  awakening  thoughts  with  the  most  finished  outward  form, 
winged  for  the  highest  flight  of  the  imagination,  and  yet  conveying 
impressive  practical  lessons  ;  a  favorite  hymn  in  the  past  ages  of  the 
Jewish  and  Christian  Churches,  and  furnishing  the  germ  of  some  of 
the  most  sublime  lyric  poems  in  all  Christian  languages. 

"Jehovah!  Thou  hast  searched  me  and  known  me; 
Thou  knowest  my  down-sitting  and  mine  up-rising  ; 
Thou  understandest  my  thouglit  afar  ofif. 
My  path  and  my  lying  down  Thou  compassest, 
And  with  all  my  ways  art  Thou  acquainted. 
For  there  is  not  a  word  in  my  tongue, 
But  lo  I  Jehovah,  Thou  knowest  all  of  it. 
Behind  and  before,  Thou  hast  beset  me 
And  layest  upon  me  Thy  hand. 
Too  wonderful  is  this  knowledge  for  me, 
It  is  high,  I  can  not  obtain  unto  it. 
Whither  shall  I  go  from  Thy  Spirit? 
And  whither  from  Thy  presence  shall  I  flee  ? 
Should  I  ascend  the  heavens,  there  Thou  art ; 
And  if  I  spread  down  hell  as  my  couch, 
Behold,  Thou  art  there. 
Should  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning 
And  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea, 
Even  there  Thy  hand  shall  lead  me, 
And  Thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me ; 
And  should  I  say.  Darkness  alone  shall  fall  on  me — 
Even  the  night  would  be  light  about  me ; 
Yea,  the  night  as  the  day  shinoth. 
As  is  the  darkness,  so  the  light. 
For  Thou  hast  created  my  reins. 
Thou  hast  woven  me  in  my  mother's  womb. 
I  will  praise  Thee,  for  I  am  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made. 
Marvelous  are  Thy  works, 
And  that  my  soul  knoweth  right  well. 
Not  hidden  was  my  substance  from  Thee 
When  I  was  formed  in  secret. 

And  curiously  wrought  in  the  lowest  parts  of  the  earth. 
My  body  Thine  eyes  beheld, 
And  in  Thy  book  all  my  days  were  enrolled  ; 
My  days  were  predetermined. 
When  there  was  not  one  of  them ! 
And  to  me  how  precious  are  Thy  thoughts,  0  God  I 
How  great  is  the  sum  of  them  I 
If  I  should  count  them, 
They  are  more  in  number  than  tlie  sand. 
When  I  awake,  then  still  I  am  with  Thee  I 


554  BELA    B.    EDWARDS. 

Surely  Thou  wilt  destroy,  0  God,  the  wicked  I 

Therefore,  ye  bloody  men,  depart  from  me. 

For  they  speak  against  Thee  wickedly, 

And  Thine  enemies  take  Thy  name  in  vain. 

Those  that  hate  Thee,  Jehovah,  do  not  I  hate  ? 

And  those  that  rise  up  against  Thee 

Do  not  I  abhor? 

With  perfect  hatred  I  hate  them, 

For  enemies  I  count  them. 

Search  me,  0  God,  and  know  my  heart. 

Try  me,  and  know  my  thoughts  ; 

And  see  if  there  be  in  me  any  evil  way, 

And  lead  me  in  the  way  everlasting." 

On  this  Psalm  I  remark,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  main  thought, 
the  binding  sentiment,  the  key  to  the  interpretation,  is  in  the  nine- 
teenth and  twenty-third  verses.  All  which  precedes  the  nineteenth 
verse  may  be  considered  as  preparatory  or  converging  to  it.  The 
Psalm  has  an  immediately  practical  aim,  which  is  unfolded  near  the 
close.  It  is  not  an  abstract  description  of  the  Divine  attributes, 
with  a  mere  indirect  purpose  in  view.  If  God  is  such  a  being,  if 
His  vital  agency  reaches  over  all  His  creation,  pervades  all  objects, 
illumines  the  deepest  and  darkest  recesses ;  if  His  knowledge  has 
no  limits,  piercing  into  the  mysterious  processes  of  creation,  into  the 
smallest  and  most  elemental  germs  of  Hfe ;  if  His  eye  can  discern 
the  still  more  subtle  and  recondite  processes  of  mind,  comprehend- 
ing the  half-formed  conception,  the  germinating  desire  "afar  off;" 
if,  anterior  to  all  finite  existence,  His  predetermining  decree  went 
forth ;  if  in  those  ancient  records  of  eternity,  man's  framework, 
with  all  its  countless  elements  and  oro^ans,  in  all  the  affes  of  his  du- 
ration,  were  inscribed — then  for  his  servant,  his  worshiper  on  earth, 
two  consequences  follow,  most  practical  and  momentous ;  first^  the 
ceasing  to  have  or  feel  any  complacency  with  the  wicked,  any  sym- 
pathy with  their  evil  ways,  any  communion  with  them  as  such  ;  and 
secondly,  the  earnest  desire  that  God  would  search  the  Psalmist's  soul, 
lest  in  its  unsounded  depths  there  might  be  some  lurking  iniquity, 
lest  there  might  be,  beyond  the  present  jurisdiction  of  his  conscience, 
some  dark  realm  which  the  Omniscient  eye  only  could  explore. 
With  the  moral  feelings  of  a  Being  whose  scrutiny  no  subterfuge 
can  evade,  whose  knowledge  antedates  that  of  all  others,  to  whom 
there  is  nothing  fathomless  or  dark  in  actual  or  in  joossible  existence 
— ^with  His  moral  feelings  those  of  His  servant  should  harmonize. 
There  should  be  but  one  standard  of  character.  The  enemies  of 
one  should  be  the  enemies  of  the  other.  The  degree  of  moral  dis- 
appropation  should  be  proportionably  as  intense  in  the  one  case  as 


THE    HUNDRED    AND    THIRTY-NINTH    PSALM.         555 

in  the  otlier.  Sympathy  with  men  of  blood,  participation  with  those 
who  take  God's  name  in  vain,  would  be,  as  it  were,  challenging  His 
omniscience,  and  proving  by  one's  conduct  that  the  fate  of  the  trans- 
gressor had  been  predestined  as  his  fate.  So,  likewise,  an  earnest 
consideration  of  the  all-pervading  presence  and  all-comprehending 
knowledge  of  God,  would  lead  every  thoughtful  man  to  the  pro- 
foundest  humility  and  self-distrust,  and  to  the  wish  that  the  search- 
ing light  of  Heaven  may  explore  all  the  dark  corners  of  his  soul. 

My  second  remark  on  this  Psalm  is,  that  the  thoughts  are  pre- 
sented in  a  gradually  ascending  series.  The  illustrations  rise  in  a 
beautiful  progression.  God's  ubiquity  and  unlimited  knowledge  are 
first  illustrated  by  outward  and,  as  it  were,  tangible  allusions ;  then 
by  the  wonderful  processes  of  creation,  which  no  eye  can  pierce; 
then  by  those  eternal  decrees  which  accurately  delineated  all  the 
organic  structures  that  were  to  come  into  being ;  and  finally,  by  the 
climax  and  crowning  wonder  of  all,  God's  goodness  to  His  frail  and 
humble  servants  on  earth.  His  thoughts  of  love  inestimably  precious, 
more  in  number  than  the  sands  on  the  sea-shore. 

Is  it  a  matter  of  surprise,  that  our  path  and  our  lying-down  are 
environed  by  this  great  Being  ;  that  in  our  walks  we  never  can  be 
solitary  or  alone ;  that,  free  and  independent  as  we  may  feel,  we  are 
evermore  pressed  upon  by  a  personal  and  conscious  existence ;  that 
in  the  highest  heavens  He  is  no  more  present  than  He  is  in  the  pro- 
foundest  abyss  ;  that  it  is  His  power  which  wings  the  earliest  beam 
of  the  morning,  and  His  wisdom  which  guides  it  on  its  adventurous 
course  ;  that  in  the  night  Avith  its  rayless  gloom  He  walks  as  in  the 
blaze  of  day  ?  Do  not  be  astonished  at  this ;  there  are  greater  mys- 
teries, "for  Thou  hast  created  my  reins!"  My  bodily  frame,  fear- 
fully and  wonderfully  made ;  that  insipient  organization,  so  faint,  so 
minute,  as  to  mock  all  investigation  ;  that  contexture  so  compli- 
cated ;  those  threads  so  innumerable  and  so  cunningly  interwoven, 
animated  by  that  impalpable  breath,  that  subtle  essence,  which  we 
call  life — this  is  the  most  wonderful  of  all.  Before  this  curious 
mechanism  of  Thine,  the  splendor  of  the  morning  and  the  solemn 
pomp  of  night  fade  away.  Wrapped  up  within  thee  are  mysteries 
higher  than  thou  couldst  find  in  heaven,  deeper  than  thou  couldst 
discover  in  hell.  Travel  not,  even  in  thy  wish,  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth  to  see  God's  wisdom;  it  is  nigh  thee,  in  thine  own  frame,  in 
thy  breathing  life.  Thou  carriest  about  with  thee  treasures  of 
knowledge  which  science  can  never  explore.  Thou  art  in  thyself  a 
proof  of  Divine  skill,  which  the  heaven  and  the  earth  can  not 
equal. 


656  BEL  A    B.    EDWARDS. 

Yet  be  not  astonished  at  this.  All  these  wondrous  existences, 
with  their  ten  thousand  elements,  organs,  and  ramifications,  did  not 
come  by  chance.  They  were  arranged  from  all  eternity.  The 
model,  the  plan,  all  the  minute  specifications,  if  we  may  so  say, 
were  present  with  the  Architect,  were  perfectly  known  long  before 
time  began.  In  His  book  thy  members  were  written  in  the  unfath- 
omable depths  of  a  past  eternity.  This  predetermining  resolve,  this 
delineating  decree,  was  more  astonishing  than  the  power  that  exe- 
cuted it ;  the  design  more  extraordinary  than  its  accomplishment. 
God's  consummate  knowledge  is  shown,  if  possible,  in  gjeater  per- 
fection by  the  original  conception  than  by  the  finishing  act. 

But  more  touching  than  all  this  stupendous  knowledge,  more  im- 
pressive than  all  this  unerring  prescience,  is  the  divine  comjxtssion ; 
God's  thoughts  toward  them  that  fear  Him,  overflowing  with  love, 
uncounted  in  number.  The  greatest  wonder  in  God  is  His  conde- 
scension. His  philanthropy.  His  fatherly  benignity,  His  yearning 
tenderness,  is  the  crowning  grace,  is  the  thought  which  comprehends 
and  exhausts  all  others. 

I  remark,  in  the  third  place,  upon  this  Psalm,  that  it  does  not 
present  the  omnipresence  and  omniscience  of  God  in  their  sterner 
aspects,  as  awful  powers,  primitive  attributes,  the  consuming  agents 
of  the  divine  will.  They  are  not  placed  in  a  cold  and  repelling 
light,  as  destined  merely  to  fill  the  soul  with  fear  of  that  Being  that 
can  wield  such  amazing  resources.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  pre- 
sented mainly  in  their  winning  and  amiable  forms,  fitted  to  attract 
and  soothe,  rather  than  to  terrify  and  confound. 

If  His  faithful  worshiper  ascend  the  heavens,  God  is  there  to 
welcome  him ;  if  he  plunge  into  the  darkness  of  the  profoundest 
abyss,  God's  benignant  agency  is  felt  even  there.  If  duty  call  him 
to  the  extremest  verge  of  the  green  earth,  that  same  guiding  hand 
accompanies  him,  that  same  watchful  Friend  sustains  him.  When 
he  fears  lest  the  floods  may  overwhelm,  him,  or  insupportable  dark- 
ness fall  upon  him,  still  the  everlasting  arms  are  underneath  him, 
and  eternal  light  shines  around  him.  When  he  awakes  from  a  state 
of  temporary  unconsciousness,  and  fears  lest  his  Guardian  has  retired 
into  those  depths  where  he  can  not  trace  Him,  he  still  finds  that 
Guardian  at  his  side,  with  all  powers  of  tender  protection  and  sup- 
port. How  should  it  be  otherwise  ?  Inestimably  dear  are  God's 
thoughts  toward  him  !  In  all  the  stages  of  his  being,  in  all  his  va- 
ried experience,  from  the  dawn  of  life  in  helpless  infancy  onward, 
the  Divine  goodness  has  pursued  him  with  unfaltering  step  ;  that 
goodness  has  lavished  upon  him  its  boundless  stores ;  the  divine 


THE    HUNDRED    AND    THIRTY-NINTH    PSALM.         557 

perfections  liave  been,  as  it  were,  conspiring  to  mark  him  out  as  tlie 
object  of  unceasing  and  exuberant  favor. 

From  this  Psalm  various  and  impressive  practical  lessons  may  be 
learned. 

One  of  the  most  obvious  and  direct  inferences  is  this ;  that  medi- 
tation upon  God's  character,  the  intellectual  contemplation  of  His  at- 
tributes, should  lead  us  to  self- review  and  humiliation.  This  practi- 
cal effect  should  not  be  confined  merely  to  what  are  termed  His 
moral  attributes.  We  may  indeed  consider  abstractedly,  and  for 
scientific  purposes,  certain  aspects  of  His  nature,  certain  modes  of 
His  being,  and  denominate  them  natural  or  intellectual  attributes. 
But  in  reality  His  being  is  one  and  indivisible.  His  nature  is  not 
separable  into  parts.  All  those  states  which  we,  on  account  of  the 
imperfection  of  language,  term  qualities  or  characteristics,  really  co- 
exist and  cohere;  they  are  very  inadequate  symbols  to  express  a 
nature  which  is  at  once  personal  and  boundless,  a  perfection  whose 
moral  and  intellectual  excellences  can  no  more  be  separated  than  the 
exact  edge  or  transition  points  in  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  Such 
is  the  uniform  representation  of  the  Scriptures.  They  never  teach 
us  to  gaze  upon  these  attributes  as  intellectual  propositions.  The 
omniscience  of  God  is  a  holy  omniscience.  The  omnipresence  of 
God  is  the  presence  of  spotless  holiness  and  infinite  love.  The 
power  of  God  is  the  agent  and  executor  of  perfect  holiness  and  right- 
eousness. When,  therefore,  we  look  at  any  of  the  symbols  of  di- 
vine agency  around  us,  the  practical  effect  should  be  lowly  adoration 
and  the  deepest  self-abasement.  The  moon,  walking  in  her  bright- 
ness, is  the  teacher  of  moral  purity.  The  stars  in  their  courses,  with 
sounds  inaudible  to  our  gross  sense,  whisper  of  the  moral  serenity 
of  that  Being  who  appointed  them  their  circuits.  The  gorgeous  ap- 
paritions in  the  western  evening  sky  prefigure  a  realm  whose  pure 
light  never  fades  away.  All  nature,  all  visible  forms,  all  the 
wondrous  mechanism  of  sky  and  earth,  all  the  depths  of  our  phys- 
ical and  immortal  nature,  speak  not  simply  of  abstract  power  and 
vast  knowledge,  nor  simply  of  God's  overflowing  love,  but,  by  the 
law  of  contrast,  by  one  of  the  most  active  principles  of  our  nature, 
they  lead  us  to  feel  our  own  impurity,  our  own  helplessness,  the 
fearful  uncongeniality  of  our  nature  to  that  of  Him  with  whom 
we  have  to  do.  What  are  we,  that  we  should  be  placed  in  the 
midst  of  such  glories  ?  Why  should  defilement  mar  Divine  purity  ? 
Why  should  beings  so  corrupt,  with  hearts  so  inclined  to  evil,  with 
eyes  blind  to  the  moral  beauty  that  is  lavished  all  around,  be  per- 
mitted to  deface  what  they  can  not  love  and  appreciate  ?  "  Search 
me  and  try  my  heart ;  by  the  cleansing  power  qualify  me  to  live  in 


558  BELA    B.    EDWARDS. 

a  -world  radiant  witli  the  Divine  perfections,  to  be  an  accepted  wor- 
shiper  in  the  pure  temple,  and  to  meditate  thoughtfully  on  Thy  un- 
created glories!"  This  should  be  the  spontaneous  exclamation  of 
every  one  who  is  permitted  to  turn  aside  and  see  this  great  sight. 

Another  remark  on  this  Psalm  is,  that  we  discover  in  it  a  reason 
why  a  portion  of  inspiration  is  communicated  to  us  in  the  form  of 
poetry.  It  is  not  simply  because  it  is  more  eloquent  than  prose,  be- 
cause figurative  language  makes  a  deeper  and  more  vivid  impression. 
It  is  because  it  gives  a  truer  and  more  adequate  impression,  because 
it  approaches  nearer  to  the  nature  of  the  thing  to  be  comprehended, 
because  it  is  less  liable  to  present  false  or  perverted  conceptions. 
The  divine  attributes  are,  in  their  nature,  illimitable,  and  at  the  best 
can  be  but  partially  and  feebly  apprehended.  Yet  those  delineations 
in  the  Scriptures  are  the  most  impressive,  the  most  adequate,  which 
are  the  furthest  removed  from  the  language  of  common  life,  where 
the  illustrations  are  the  least  definite,  the  least  measureable,  the  least 
apprehensible  by  the  mere  understanding ;  those  objects  in  the  ma- 
terial universe  being  selected  which  can  be  represented  only,  as  it 
were,  in  outline,  necessarily  conveying  the  idea  of  an  indefinite  vast- 
ness,  of  an  immeasurable  depth,  of  unimagined  velocity.  There  is 
a  sense,  therefore,  in  which  the  best  method  of  representation  is  the 
most  indefinite,  the  least  cognizable  by  the  mere  intellect.  We  do 
not  discover  truth,  we  do  not  feel  its  power,  by  the  aid  of  one  fac- 
ulty alone.  For  this  purpose  we  have  the  principle  of  faith,  we  have 
the  power  of  emotion,  the  faculty  of  imagination,  all  to  be  employed 
in  some  form  or  another,  in  addition  to  the  light  of  reason,  in  ob- 
taining some  conceptions  of  Him  whom  to  know  is  refreshment  to 
the  heart,  support  to  the  intellect,  eternal  life  to  the  soul.  The 
mercy  of  the  Lord  is  from  eternity  to  eternity ;  the  high  and  the 
lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eternity ;  whom  the  heaven  of  heavens 
cannot  contain  ;  who  reigneth  clothed  in  majesty ;  who  has  been  the 
dwelling-place  of  His  servants  in  all  generations ;  who  walketh  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind  ;  whose  Spirit  garnished  the  heavens  ; — these 
and  similar  delineations,  because  of  their  indefiniteness,  do  actually 
impart  the  most  ennobling  and  satisfying  conceptions  of  God.  On 
such  subjects,  that  which  is  in  the  highest  degree  poetical  is  near- 
est the  truth.  Hence  the  Psalm  which  we  have  been  considering 
is  one  of  the  principal  proof-passages  for  two  or  three  of  the  at- 
tributes of  the  Almighty.  Hence  a  main  reason  why  the  Hebrews, 
and  all  who  have  enjoyed  their  poetry,  sublimer  beyond  comparison 
than  any  other,  have  attained  to  the  purest  and  most  spiritual  con- 
ceptions of  God. 

I  remark,  again,  that  this  subject  is  in  the  highest  degree  of  a 


THE    HUNDRED    AND    THIRTY-NINTH    PSALM.         659 

practical  character.  The  attributes  of  God — His  omnipresence  and 
omniscience,  seem  to  be  far  away  from  us,  to  have  little  vital  connec- 
tion with  our  daily  habits  of  thought  and  feeling.  Yet  they  are  at- 
tributes fruitful  of  application,  topics  overflowing  with  instruction. 

"We  need  such  themes  to  correct  the  levity,  the  frivolous  indiffer- 
ence which  is  so  natural  to  us,  the  tendency  to  a  superficial  and  con- 
ventional life,  by  which  one  is  robbed  of  his  birthright  as  a  serious 
and  meditative  student  in  the  vast  field  of  religious  truth.  The  fre- 
quent contemplation  of  those  attributes  would  ennoble  the  mind, 
would  divest  it  of  its  degrading  trivialities,  would  impart  to  it  a 
wholesome  awe,  would  gradually  reveal  to  it  somewhat  of  the  close- 
ness and  preciousness  of  the  relations  in  which  its  stands  to  its 
Creator  and  Redeemer. 

Again,  the  longer  one  lives,  provided  his  mental  and  moral 
habits  are  in  any  measure  correct,  the  more  will  he  feel  the  depth  of 
his  ignorance,  the  more  will  he  see  that  he  has  as  yet  caught  only  a 
glimpse  of  the  fragments  of  truth,  the  less  confidently  will  he  speak 
of  the  certainty  of  his  knowledge,  the  profounder  will  be  his  con- 
sciousness that  immeasurable  tracts  lie  beyond  his  feeble  ken,  and 
the  more  earnestly  will  he  ask  for  that  illuminating  spirit  that  search- 
eth  the  dark  things  of  God,  the  more  grateful  will  he  be  that  there 
is  an  open  door  to  One,  in  whom  dwelleth  all  the  fullness  of  wisdom. 

Again,  are  we  at  any  time  solitary  ?  Are  we  following  the  path 
of  duty  in  the  furthest  East,  or  the  utmost  West,  where  the  sun 
gilds  Indian  mountains,  or  his  setting  beam  flames  on  the  Pacific 
isles?  Are  we  surrounded  by  untutored  men,  whom  we  are  trying 
to  lead  to  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  and  between  whom  and  our- 
selves there  can  be  but  little  communion  ?  How  refreshing  may  be 
the  thought  that  we  are  not  withdrawn  from  the  sovereign  intelli- 
gence, that  the  very  circumstances  of  our  solitariness  may  widen  and 
shorten  the  channel  of  communication  between  us  I  Our  souls  may  find 
a  present  God  as  it  would  be  impossible  in  a  Christian  land.  The 
everlasting  arms  may  be  around  us  in  a  sense  never  felt  elsewhere. 

So  it  may  be  in  times  of  affliction,  when  the  vanity  of  all  earthly 
supports  is  felt  as  a  most  melancholy  reality  ;  then  the  soul,  de- 
tached from  all  other  relief,  may  still  sing.  The  Lord  is  my  refuge,  I 
shall  not  want ; — I  will  praise  Thee,  for  I  am  fearfully  and  wonder- 
fully made ; — made  immortal  and  spiritual  like  Thee  ;  made  to  sustain 
conscious  and  most  endearing  relations  to  Thee  made ;  wise  by  Thine 
unsearchable  wisdom ;  made  happy  in  Thine  immediate  presence ; 
and  destined  to  an  everlasting  progress  toward  that  great  luminary, 
the  faint  irradiations  of  whose  love  now,  in  this  distant  world,  are 
my  song  in  my  pilgrimage. 


DISCOURSE  EIGHTIETH. 

ALBERT    B.   DOD,  D.D. 

Professor  Dod  was  born  at  Medliam,  Morris  Co.,  'New  Jersey, 
March  24th,  1805.  His  early  studies  were  pursued  at  the  Academy  ia 
his  native  village,  and  at  Elizabethtown,  whither  his  parents  had  re- 
moved. He  graduated  at  Princeton  College  in  1822,  and  spent  the  next 
five  years  in  private  teacliing.  In  1827  he  returned  to  Princeton,  enter- 
ing the  Theological  Seminary,  and  at  the  same  time  acting  as  tutor  in  the 
College.  Upon  the  completion  of  his  theological  course,  in  1830,  he 
was  elected  to  the  chair  of  mathematics  in  Princeton  College.  He  also 
lectured  for  some  time  on  Architecture  (for  which  he  had  a  pecuHar  pas- 
sion), and  on  Political  Economy.  Besides  this,  and  performing  the  duties 
of  his  department,  he  often  preached,  and  contributed  largely  to  the 
pages  of  the  "  BibUcal  Repertory,"  or  Princeton  Review,  Many  of  his 
articles,  particularly  one  on  Capital  Punishment,  and  a  review  of  the 
"  Vestiges  of  Creation,"  were  considered  exceedingly  able  and  conclu- 
sive. But  his  brilliant  career  Was  soon  to  close.  The  good  fight  of  faith 
was  not  to  be  prolonged.  On  the  20th  of  November,  1845,  he  was  sum- 
moned from  the  field  of  conflict  and  permitted  "to  hang  up  his  armor  in 
the  Master's  hall,  and  take  his  crown."  His  remains  now  sleep  in  classic 
ground,  at  the  feet  of  Samuel  Davies. 

Professor  Dod  was  for  eighteen  years  a  distinguished  ornament  of 
the  faculty  of  instruction  m  the  venerable  College  at  Princeton.  As  a 
scholar,  he  was  far  in  advance  of  most  men  at  his  age ;  as  a  Christian  he 
was  pre-eminently  a  follower  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  as  a  man  of  talents 
he  had  few  superiors.  It  was  the  testimony  of  one  who  had  every  op- 
portiuiity  of  knowing  him  (Professor  Charles  Hodge,  D.D.),  that  he  was 
undoubtedly  one  of  the  ablest  men  New  Jersey  has  ever  produced. 
"  His  intellect,"  says  this  authority,  "was  so  clear  in  its  perceptions,  so 
vigorous  and  so  rapid  in  its  action,  that  he  saw,  as  by  intuition,  what  or- 
dinary minds  attain  only  by  laborious  examination."  There  was  also  a 
remarkable  blending  of  the  several  powers  of  the  mind.  "  Never,"  said 
one  at  the  time  of  his  death,  "  did  I  know  an  instance  in  which  the 
i7nagination  and  judgment  were  combined  in  such  vast  proportions — 


THE    RESPONSIBILITY    OF    MAN    FOR    HIS    BELIEF.    501 

"  'Where  fancy  halted,  weary  ia  her  flight, 
In  other  men,  his,  fresh  as  morning,  rose, 
And  soared  untrodden  heights,  and  seemed  at  home 
"Where  angels  bashful  looked.'  "^ 

As  a  teacher,  the  genius  of  Professor  Dod  enkmdled  the  enthusiasm  of 
all  who  came  under  his  instructions,  and  made  him  eminent  in  his  pro- 
fession. As  a  champion  for  the  truth,  he  was  earnest,  able  and  successful. 
All  his  shining  gifts  and  attainments  were  laid  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  He 
appeared  before  the  public  much  more  frequently  as  a  literary  and  scien- 
tific man  than  as  a  preacher.  But  when  speaking  from  the  pulpit  he 
never  failed  to  command  the  most  marked  attention,  and  fix  deep  in  the 
mind  the  truth  under  discussion.  He  especially  excelled  in  the  clear  pre- 
sentation of  the  great  practical  truths  of  the  Christian  rehgion.  Of  this 
remark  we  have  an  illustration  in  the  sermon  here  given,  which  Dr. 
Hodge  has  pronounced  one  of  Professor  Dod's  ablest  discourses.  It  has 
never  before  been  printed,  and  now  appears,  at  our  request,  through  the 
kindness  of  a  brother  of  the  deceased,  the  Rev.  WiUiam  A.  Dod,  of 
Princeton.  The  subject  discussed  is  one  of  great  importance,  and  the 
discourse  bears  the  marks  of  that  acute  intellect,  exquisite  taste,  clear 
analysis,  and  perspicuity  of  statement,  for  which  the  author  was  dis- 
tinsruished. 


THE  RESPONSIBILITY  OF  MAN  FOR  HIS  BELIEF. 

"  There  is  a  way  which  seemeth  right  unto  a  man ;  but  the  end  thereof  are  the  ways 
of  death. "^-Proverbs,  xiv.  12. 

The  chief  concern,  and  the  most  earnest  effort  of  every  rational 
being,  ought  to  be  directed  to  the  discovery  of  the  right  way  through 
life.  With  a  heart  naturally  disposed  to  error,  and  surrounded  by 
influences  which  conspire  to  deceive  and  mislead  him,  no  man.  can 
hope  to  avoid  ruinous  and  fatal  mistakes,  but  by  the  continued  exer- 
cise of  the  greatest  watchfulness  and  care.  The  paths  that  lead  to 
destruction  are  many  and  broad ;  they  stand  wide  open  on  every 
side  of  us ;  it  requires  no  search  to  find,  it  costs  no  effort  to  enter 
them.  But  the  single  way  that  leads  to  life  eternal,  is  so  strait,  and 
narrow,  and  difficult,  that  few  there  be  that  find  it.  All  who  do  not 
search  diligently  after  it  are  sure  to  miss  it ;  and  what  is  still  more 
alarming,  many  shall  seek  to  enter  in  and  shall  not  be  able.  "  There 
is  a  way  that  seemeth  right  unto  a  man  ;  but  the  end  thereof  are  the 
ways  of  death."     It  is  possible  that  the  search  after  truth  may  be  so 

*  Rev.  Irasnius  Prime,  D.D. 
36 


562  ALBERT    B.    DOD. 

conducted  as  to  end  only  in  error ;  that  the  firmest  conviction  of 
right  may  lead  down  to  the  chambers  of  death,  and  that  a  fixed  as- 
surance of  safety  may  buoy  up  the  heart,  until  the  moment  when  it 
is  transfixed  by  the  pangs  of  the  second  death. 

This  is  unquestionably  a  most  appalling  truth.  The  man  who  is 
traveling  an  intricate  and  dangerous  road,  though  he  have  the  un- 
perverted  use  of  all  his  faculties,  and  adequate  means  for  determin- 
ing the  right  way,  is  in  a  situation  sufBciently  alarming  to  task  his 
utmost  caution.  But  how  much  more  deplorable  his  condition  if  he 
be  liable  to  be  smitten  with  blindness,  or,  worse  still,  to  have  his 
eyes  so  disordered  as  to  misread  every  guide-post  that  marks  his 
way,  and  his  ears  so  perverted  as  to  convert  the  sharp  calls  of  warn- 
ing that  sound  around  him,  into  the  bland  assurances  of  safety. 

Even  thus  perilous  is  the  situation  of  man  in  relation  to  his  eter- 
nal destiny.  Endowed  by  God  with  moral  faculties  capable  of  dis- 
cerning the  right  way,  and  furnished  with  abundant  means  of  infor- 
mation, he  may  so  pervert  the  one,  and  neglect  and  abuse  the  other, 
as  to  become  involved  in  fatal  delusions.  With  an  elastic  step  and 
a  cheerful  heart,  without  any  fearful  misgivings  as  to  his  course,  he 
may  be  traveling  the  road  to  destruction,  and  learn  his  mistake  only 
when  it  is  too  late  to  rectify  it.  Error  may  steal  upon  him  under 
the  guise  of  truth.  Wrong  may  assume  to  him  the  appearnce  of 
right ;  and  evil  be  conscientiously  pursued  as  good. 

Such  is  the  doctrine  taught  in  our  text,  and  abundantly  confirmed 
by  other  declarations  of  the  Scriptures.  We  read  of  those  whom  a 
deceived  heart  hath  turned  aside ;  who  have  turned  the  light  that 
was  within  them  into  darkness,  and  who,  because  they  loved  not  the 
truth,  have  been  given  over  to  strong  delusions  that  they  should  be- 
lieve a  lie.  The  opinions  which  men  entertain  on  moral  subjects 
are  never  treated  in  the  Scriptures  as  a  matter  of  indifference ;  nor 
are  they  exempted  fi-om  responsibility  for  the  errors  by  which  they 
are  misled.  On  the  contrary  the  Bible  frequently  teaches  and  al- 
ways assumes,  that  a  right  practice  has  its  foundation  only  in  a  right 
belief;  that  goodness  can  not  exist  independent  of  the  truth,  and 
that  every  man  is  accountable  for  his  opinions,  no  less  than  for  his 
outward  conduct. 

The  Bible  is  on  this,  as  on  many  other  subjects,  directly  opposed 
to  the  maxims  and  opinions  most  current  in  the  world.  Who  has 
not  met  with  the  trite  lines  of  the  poet, 

"  For  modee  of  faith  let  gracelosa  zealots  fight, 
Eis  can't  be  wroDg,  whose  life  is  in  the  right." 


THE    RESPONSIBILITY    OF    MAN    FOR    HIS    BELIEF.    563 

Who  has  not  heard  it  said,  with  the  air  of  confidence  befitting  a  self- 
evident  axiom,  "  It  is  no  matter  what  a  man  believes,  so  that  his 
practice  be  right  ?"  How  common  is  it  for  the  most  palpable  and 
egregious  errors  to  be  excused  under  the  soft  plea  "  that  thev  who 
hold  them  are  sincere  in  their  belief;"  as  if  hypocrisy  were  the  only 
vice  of  which  man  is  capable.  It  has  been  proclaimed  to  the  world 
as  a  great,  a  glorious  truth,  by  one  of  the  most  distinguished  among 
modern  orators  and  statesmen,  that  men  are  no  more  responsible  for 
their  opinions  than  for  the  height  of  their  stature,  or  the  hue  of 
their  skin !  The  same  sentiment  has  found  its  way  into  professed 
treatises  on  morals — it  has  been  spread  abroad  on  the  pages  of  our 
popular  reviews.  Poetry  has  embellished  it  with  its  charms,  and 
sojjhistry  defended  it  by  plausible  arguments.  We  have  even  heard 
it  drop  from  the  lips  of  Christian  people,  Avho  did  not  seem  to  be 
aware  that  the  truth  of  the  sentiment  they  were  uttering  is  consistent 
only  with  the  falsehood  of  the  religion  they  profess. 

If  this  sentiment  were  intended  to  apply  only  in  limitation  of 
man's  responsibility  to  his  fellow-man  for  his  opinions,  we  should 
have  no  quarrel  with  it.  It  is  true  that  man  is  answerable  for  his 
faith  before  no  human  tribunal.  This  truth  has  in  these  latter  days 
sounded  abroad  through  the  world,  and  the  fires  of  persecution  have 
gone  out  before  it,  and  the  rusted  implements  of  torture  are  now 
hung  up  as  the  curious  relics  of  a  past  age.  That  age  can  not 
return.  Never  again  can  the  rack  be  employed  as  an  instrument  of 
conviction,  or  crowds  assemble  to  laugh  and  exalt  over  the  obstinate 
believer  slowly  consuming  at  the  stake.  But  I  hesitate  not  to  say 
that  better,  yea  far  better,  would  it  be  for  the  world,  that  these  de- 
testible  barbarities  of  religious  zeal  should  be  renewed,  than  that 
men  should  be  guarded  against  them  by  being  taught  to  believe  that 
most  monstrous  of  all  errors,  that  error  itself  has  no  noxious  quality, 
and  truth  no  holy  prerogative.  The  return  of  the  days  of  persecu- 
tion for  opinion's  sake,  would  expose  us  to  the  mischievous  conse- 
quences of  a  single  error — the  general  prevalence  of  the  sentiment 
under  discussion,  would  open  the  flood-gates  to  all  forms  of  error, 
and  among  others  to  the  very  one  which  it  aims  to  prevent.  For  if 
all  error  be  blameless,  then  may  men  innocently  believe  that  they 
ought  to  persecute  with  fire  and  sword  all  who  differ  from  them  in 
opinion. 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  free  men  from  responsibility  to  God,  tO' 
prevent  the  danger  of  persecution  from  man.  Human  law  traverses 
but  a  small  portion  of  that  vast  field  which  is  covered,  in  every  part, 
by  the  dominion  of  God.     It  has  no  right  to  intermeddle  with  any 


564:  ALBERT    B,    DOD. 

of  our  opinions  or  feelings,  nor  even  to  control  any  of  our  outward 
acts,  except  so  far  as  these  are  injurious  to  the  peace  and  well-being 
of  society.  This  evident  limitation  of  the  right  of  man  over  his  fel- 
low-man, is  the  proper  ground  on  which  to  rest  the  freedom  of  opin- 
ion. Here  is  ample  room  afforded  to  every  one,  when  called  in 
question  for  his  opinions,  either  by  a  magistrate  or  by  an  intermed- 
dling neighbor,  to  reply,  "  What  is  that  to  thee  ?  to  my  own  Master 
I  stand  or  fall." 

It  is  plain  that  error  may  be  thus  excused  before  every  human 
tribunal,  or  rather  exempted  from  its  jurisdiction,  upon  grounds 
which  leave  untouched  the  question  of  its  accountableness  before  the 
j  udgment-seat  of  God. 

But  the  advocates  for  the  innocence  of  error  plead  for  it  upon 
principles,  which  exempt  it  from  Divine,  no  less  than  human  juris- 
diction. 

"  A  human  being,"  they  tell  us,  ''  can  only  be  supposed  account- 
able for  those  actions  which  are  influenced  by  his  will.  But  belief  is 
entirely  distinct  from,  and  unconnected  with  volition.  It  is  the  appre- 
hension of  the  agTeement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas  which  compose 
any  proposition.  The  mind  can  only  helieve  according  to  evidence. 
The  will  has  no  more  power  to  withhold  the  assent  of  the  mind 
from  a  proposition  proved  to  be  true,  than  it  has  to  prevent  the  sen- 
sation of  sight  when  an  object  is  placed  before  the  eyes.  Belief  is 
an  involuntary  state  of  mind,  and  as  volition  is  essential  to  merit  or 
demerit,  it  can  not  be  the  proper  object  either  of  praise  or  blame." 
Such  is  the  substance  of  the  arguments  urged  in  behalf  of  the  opinion 
under  discussion :  and  if  these  principles  are  correct,  it  certainly  fol- 
lows, not  only  that  man  can  not  be  rightfully  called  upon  to  account 
to  man  for  his  belief,  but  also  that  he  has  no  such  account  to  render 
to  God. 

It  can  not  be  denied,  and  by  some  of  its  adversaries  it  is  not  con- 
cealed, that  the  opinion  as  thus  stated  and  defended,  is  at  direct 
variance  with  the  Scriptures.  The  contrariety  between  them  is  so 
direct  and  palpable,  that  the  adoption  of  the  one  necessarily  implies 
the  rejection  of  the  other.  The  Bible  purports  to  be  a  messenger  to 
us  from  God,  revealing  His  will  and  our  duty  ;  and  the  prophets  and 
apostles  who  come  to  us  charged  with  the  delivery  of  this  message, 
uniformly  command  us  to  receive  it  as  the  truth  of  God.  They  do 
not  confine  themselves  to  the  exhibition  of  the  evidence  which  illus- 
trates and  proves  the  truth  of  their  doctrines ;  they  do  not  content 
themselves  with  simply  recommending  the  doctrines  which  they 
teach,  as  worthy  of  credit  and  beneficial  in  their  tendency  ;  but  they 


THE    EESPONSIBILITT    OF    MAN    FOR    HIS   BELIEF.     565 

distinctly  command  us,  in  the  name  and  by  the  authority  of  God,  to 
believe  and  obey  their  words.  "  This  is  the  commandment  of  God, 
that  we  believe  on  the  name  of  His  Son,  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 

They  deliver  their  message  as  an  authoritative  exposition  of  the 
truth — and  instead  of  teaching  that  it  may  be  rejected  by  any  with- 
out guilt,  they  declare  that  the  direst  penalties  will  overtake  all  who 
dare  to  disbelieve.  "  He  that  belie veth  not  the  Son  shall  not  see 
life,  but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him."  "  He  that  believeth  not 
shall  be  damned." 

So  far  are  they  from  teaching  that  belief  is  an  involuntary  and 
therefore  an  irresponsible  operation  of  mind,  that  they  represent  it  as 
the  very  criterion  of  moral  character.  Thus  our  Saviour  said  to  the 
Pharisees,  "The  publicans  and  harlots  shall  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  before  you,  for  ye  believed  not  John  the  Baptist — but  the 
publicans  and  harlots  believed  him,"  If  the  responsibility  of  man  for 
his  belief  were  a  remote  inference  from  the  other  plain  doctrines  of 
the  Holy  Scriptures,  we  might  suppose  it  doubtful,  however  clear 
the  reasoning  might  appear  which  seemed  to  establish  it.  K  it 
flashed  upon  us  only  dimly  here  and  there  as  we  turned  the  jDages 
of  the  Bible,  we  might  question  its  real  import ;  but  it  shines  through 
every  page  from  beginning  to  end  with  a  light  too  clear  and  steady 
to  be  mistaken.  Whether  the  doctrine  itself  be  true  or  false,  right 
or  wrong,  may  be  matter  of  dispute — but  it  can  not  be  doubted  that 
it  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Bible — nay,  that  it  is  one  of  the  foundation 
truths  upon  which  Christianity  rests.  K  this  be  removed,  the  whole 
system  must  fall. 

I  shall  attempt,  therefore,  to  show  that  the  declarations  of  the 
Bible  upon  this  subject,  are  in  strict  harmony  with  the  course  of 
Divine  Providence  in  the  world — and  with  the  laws  of  right  and 
wrong  written  upon  our  hearts. 

If  sincerity  of  belief  is  all  that  is  required  for  our  future  well- 
being,  we  should  naturally  expect  to  find  the  same  law  prevailing  in 
the  administration  of  that  government  under  which  we  now  live.  It 
should,  in  this  case,  be  matter  of  surprise  to  us  that  a  man  who  is 
honestly  mistaken^  should  ever  suffer  any  ill  consequences  because  of 
his  error.  And  yet  what  is  more  evident  than  that  the  well-being 
of  every  man  in  this  life,  is  dependent  upon  his  knowledge  and  be- 
lief of  the  truths  which  preside  over  his  earthly  lot,  and  determine 
the  conditions  of  his  failure  or  success  ?  The  laws  which  govern  the 
course  of  human  events  have  a  real  outward  existence,  independent 
of  the  conceptions  which  we  form  of  them — and  it  is  not  upon  the 
sincerity,  but  the  correctness  of  our  belief  in  them,  that  our  hap|)iness 


566  ALBERT    B.    DOD. 

or  misery  is  dependent.  It  is  not  so  mucli  a  deduction  of  reason,  as 
it  is  a  fact  of  experience,  tliat  men  are  actually  punished  in  tliis  life 
for  the  errors  of  judgment  into  which  they  are,  from  whatever  cause, 
betrayed.  If  through  inattention,  want  of  due  reflection,  or  mere 
willfulness,  they  are  led  to  adopt  erroneous  opinions  respecting  the 
conduct  of  life,  they  never  fail  to  reap  the  ill  consequences  of  their 
error.  This  truth  is  daily  exemplified  before  our  ej^es — and  he  is  a 
happy  man  whose  own  experience  does  not  furnish  him  with  many 
luminous  illustrations  of  it.  There  is  no  man  who  has  not  learned 
that  his  own  convictions  have  no  tendency  to  alter  the  substantial 
nature  of  things  around  him,  or  to  suspend,  or  modify,  in  the  least 
degree,  the  operation  of  those  laws  to  which  he  has  been  made  sub- 
ject. These  remain  the  same,  retaining  their  intrinsic  properties, 
and  working  out  their  predestined  results  without  any  influence  from 
the  mutable  opinions  of  man.  Though  all  men  should  believe  that 
the  earth  is  fixed  in  space,  as  it  appears  to  the  sense,  this  belief 
would  not  stay  for  a  moment  her  swift  motion  in  her  orbit.  The  an- 
cient philosopher  who  had  persuaded  himself  that  there  was  no  ex- 
ternal world,  that  these  solid  seeming  realities  around  us,  are  but  ap- 
pearances  or  phantasms  of  the  perceiving  mind,  and  who  in  this  ac- 
count refused  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  carriage 
coming  toward  him,  was  crushed  to  death,  notwithstanding  the  sin- 
cerity and  strength  of  his  conviction  that  there  was  no  danger.  He 
who  should  swallow  poison  under  the  firm  belief  that  it  was  whole- 
some food,  would  nevertheless  find  in  death  the  penalty  of  his 
mistake. 

Docs  not  the  drunkard  often  continue  to  drain  the  deadly  cup,  on 
the  ground  that  it  is  necessary  for  his  health  ?  But  when  was  it  ever 
found  that  this  belief  stayed  the  tremulousness  of  his  hand,  the  bloat- 
ing of  his  body,  the  wateriness  of  his  eye,  and  the  other  signals 
which  suffering  nature  holds  out,  of  present  distress  and  approach- 
ing dissolution  ? 

It  must  be  evident  to  every  man  that  we  are  placed  in  this  world 
under  the  dominion  of  laws,  that  coming  from  some  higher  source 
than  ourselves,  remain  fixed  and  immutable :  that  there  are  certain 
truths  easily  discoverable,  the  knowledge  of  which  is  absolutely 
essential  to  our  existence — and  that  there  are  other  truths,  more 
difiicult  of  discovery,  which  we  must  know  in  order  to  gain  the 
highest  good  which  is  here  within  our  reach.  All  things  have  been 
so  arranged  as  to  hold  out  a  boon  for  extensive  and  accurate  knowl- 
edge, and  to  discourage  ignorance  and  error  under  the  severest  pen- 
alties of  forfeiture  and  suffering.     Under  this  aspect  it  is  apparent 


THE    RESPONSIBILITY    OF    MAN    FOR    HIS    BELIEF.    567 

that  the  life  we  now  lead  is  a  life  of  faith.  The  knowledge  and  be- 
lief of  the  truth,  is  its  vital  principle. 

Behold  here  the  admirable  harmony  between  the  relation  which 
we  see  that  we  hold  to  the  present  life,  and  that  which  the  Bible 
reveals  "as  connecting  ns  with  the  life  to  come.  Here  is  this  world 
with  its  sensible  realities  placed  over  against  us — and  it  is  upon  the 
correctness  and  apprehension  of  our  belief  of  the  pre-established 
truths  which  are  necessary  to  bring  us  into  correspondence  with  it, 
that  our  happiness,  or  misery,  is  dependent.  In  like  manner  Keve- 
lation  assures  us  that  there  lies  before  us  another  world,  where  the 
intrinsic.nature  of  every  object  is  as  independent  of  our  perceptions, 
as  here,  and  in  which  our  condition  will  be  determined  by  our  be- 
lief or  rejection  of  those  truths  which  are  necessary  to  our  well-being. 
Can  there  be  a  doubt  that  it  is  the  voice  of  the  same  Being  that 
speaks  to  us  in  the  Bible,  and  in  nature  ? 

Certain  it  is,  that  whatever  objection  lies  against  the  Bible  be- 
cause of  its  teaching  the  hard  doctrine,  that  man  is  responsible  for 
his  behef,  lies  with  equal,  nay,  with  greater  force,  against  the  notion 
of  a  just  and  benevolent  Creator.  For  we  not  only  find  in  our  ex- 
perience that  this  doctrine  is  reduced  to  practice  as  an  actual  law, 
governing  our  relation  to  the  present  world,  but  we  find  it  enforced 
with  a  strictness  of  rule  and  a  severity  of  application  which  are  not 
claimed  for  it  in  the  Bible.  In  the  administration  of  the  affairs  of 
the  present  life,  ignorance  and  error  are  visited  with  suffering,  even 
in  cases  where  they  are  strictly  unavoidable.  The  man  who,  through 
his  unfavorable  circumstances  or  the  feebleness  of  his  natural  facul- 
ties, is  unable  to  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  the  truths  which  might 
benefit  him,  is  doomed  no  less  than  he  who  willfully  rejects  this 
knowledge,  to  undergo  the  penalties  and  calamities  which  are  insep- 
arable from  ignorance.  This  seeming  hardship  doubtless  admits  of 
explanation — but  explain  it  as  you  will,  it  still  remains  a  fact,  that 
in  the  dispensation  of  the  rewards  and  punishments  of  this  life,  man 
is  actually  held  to  a  closer  responsibility  for  his  belief,  than  we 
charge  him  with  in  relation  to  another  world. 

If  there  be  any  here  who  are  disposed  to  venture  the  salvation 
of  their  soul  upon  the  opinion  that  truth  is  of  no  importance  except 
in  the  sense  of  sincerity,  let  me  warn  them  to  make  proof  of  the 
efficacy  of  this  opinion  upon  the  world  around  them.  Persuade 
yourself  that  poison  has  no  noxious  property — and  see  whether  this 
persuasion  will  deprive  it  of  its  deadly  character.  Take  a  viper  to 
your  bosom  under  the  conviction  that  it  is  harmless  and  see  whether 
this  conviction  will  extract  or  blunt  its  sting !     Teach  yourself  to 


568  ALBERT    B.    DOD. 

believe  that  industry  is  not  necessary  to  success  in  life,  and  see 
whether  this  belief  will  shield  you  from  the  insignificance  and  pri- 
vations which  follow  in  the  train  of  indolence ! 

If  the  real,  substantial  nature  of  things  here,  remains  unchanged 
by  your  opinions,  what  right  have  you  to  suppose  that  the  realities 
of  another  world  will  be  more  flexible  ?  If  error  here  is  always 
attended  by  calamitous  results,  upon  what  safe  ground  can  you 
judge  that  it  will  be  harmless  there  ?  Eeflect  thoughtfully  upon 
this  subject — and  you  will  find  in  the  observation  and  experience  of 
every  day,  abundant  reason  to  fear,  that  there  is  a  way  that  seemeth 
right  to  a  man,  but  the  end  tliereof  are  the  ways  of  death. 

You  may  derive  further  confirmation  of  this  alarming  truth, 
from  an  inspection  of  your  own  nature. 

It  is  evident  that  the  happiness  of  man  was  intended  to  be  de- 
rived chiefly  from  his  own  internal  dispositions.  External  circum- 
stances are  but  secondary  and  inferior  sources  of  enjoyment  or 
suffering.  In  the  heart  itself  is  hid  the  secret  fountain  which 
refreshes  or  saddens  us  with  its  sweet  or  bitter  waters.  We  can 
conceive  of  a  heart  so  filled  with  pure  affections,  so  informed  with 
knowledge  and  strengthened  with  love,  so  thoroughly  fortified  by 
acquiescence 

"  In  the  win  Supreme 
For  time  and  for  eternity  ;  by  Faith, 
Faith  absolute  in  God,  including  Hope," 

and  the  defense  that  lies  in  boundless  love  of  his  perfections, 
that  the  darts  of  anguish,  though  they  may  strike  upon  that 
heart  and  wound  it,  can  not  fix  a  rankle  there.  Upon  the  ruin  of 
all  its  expectations  such  a  heart  may  gaze  with  subdued  calmness — 
through  all  the  disasters  of  life  it  may  pass  untroubled,  or  at  least, 

"With  only  such  degree  of  sadness  left, 
As  may  support  longings  of  pure  desire ; 
And  strengthen  love,  rejoicing  secretly. 
In  the  subUme  attractions  of  the  grave." 

So,  too,  we  can  conceive  of  a  heart  so  weak  that  it  can  withstand 
the  presence  of  no  external  evil — so  ignorant  that,  in  the  blank  and 
solitude  of  things,  it  is  robbed  of  all  enjoyment — so  depraved  that 
in  the  midst  of  all  external  advantages  it  is  preyed  upon  by  hatred, 
malice,  envy,  and  all  disturbing  passions ;  it  is  within  the  compass 
of  moral  excellence  to  produce  the  one  of  these  states — and  the 
other  does  not  transcend  the  capabilities  of  vice.  The  obvious 
tendency  of  virtue,  in  whatever  degree  it  be  cultivated,  is  to  pro- 


THE    RESPONSIBILITY    OP    MAN    FOR    HIS    BELIEF.    ggQ 

duce  happiness ;  and  vice,  by  an  equally  obvious  and  indissoluble 
connection,  is  tlie  parent  of  niisery.  The  man  who  disobeys  his 
reason,  or  violates  his  conscience,  in  his  search  after  happiness, 
grasps  at  a  good  at  the  expense  of  the  very  appetite  which  is  to 
relish  it.  To  injure  his  moral  nature  is  to  waste  and  wear  away  his 
only  capability  of  happiness.  If  we  take  the  constitution  of  man 
to  pieces,  as  we  would  a  watch  or  other  piece  of  mechanism,  to  as- 
certain the  object  for  which  it  was  constructed,  we  see  evident  marks 
in  every  part  that  virtue  was  the  end  for  which  its  Maker  designed 
it.  And  if  we  then  inquire  further,  how  this  end  is  to  be  gained, 
that  is,  how  men  are  to  become  virtuous,  we  find  equally  strong  rea- 
sons for  concluding  that  it  can  only  be  through  a  belief  of  the  truth. 
The  essence  of  virtue  consists  in  its  principle ;  and  every  moral 
principle  has  its  root  in  truth.  Error  may  be  productive  of  some 
partial  and  transient  good,  as  when  a  crying  child  is  stilled,  or  a 
refractory  one  frightened  into  obedience,  by  a  belief  in  some  nursery 
fiction :  but  no  one  doubts  that  this  trivial  good  is  purchased  at  a 
lamentable  sacrifice.  Every  honest  man  knows  that  whenever  he 
uses  deception  and  falsehood  to  promote  even  a  good  end,  he  is  sac- 
rificing the  law  of  reason  to  the  dictates  of  a  low  and  short-sighted 
policy,  and  that  he  gains  his  end  only  as  he  would  gain  the  sword 
which  he  should  purchase  with  the  loss  of  the  arm  that  is  to  wield 
it.  Truth  is  the  only  agency  by  which  a  principle  of  good  can  be 
implanted  and  nourighed,  in  our  own  hearts,  or  in  others.  It  is  as 
inseparable  from  virtue  as  virtue  itself  is  from  happiness.  In  all 
our  modes  of  education,  and  our  attempts  to  improve  the  character 
of  individuals  or  communities,  we  proceed  upon  this  principle.  "We 
never  think  of  working  a  permanent  good  in  any  other  way  than 
by  instilling  the  truth ;  nor  do  we  ever  dream  that  error  would  an- 
swer our  purpose  equally  well,  if  we  could  only  succeed  in  making 
it  pass  for  truth.  Any  man  would  spurn  the  shameless  effrontery 
of  the  scorner,  who  should  tell  him  that  the  good  of  society  and  of 
its  individual  members,  would  be  equally  well  promoted  by  teach- 
ing them  to  lie,  and  steal,  and  murder,  provided  we  could  only  per- 
suade them  that  these  things  were  right.  That  men  can  be  elevated 
in  their  moral  character,  or  in  any  way  benefitted  by  being  taught  to 
receive  error  as  truth,  is  as  monstrous  an  absurdity  and  as  palpable 
a  contradiction  to  all  the  lessons  of  experince,  as  can  be  conceived. 
Man  is  so  made  as  to  be  swayed  to  good  only  by  the  Truth.  His 
moral  nature  can  not  respond  to  any  other  influence. 

If  we  have  not  misinterpreted  the  nature  of  man,  we  have,  then, 
in  his  structure,  not  a  presumption  merely,  but  an  indubitable  proof 


570  ALBERT    B,    DOD. 

of  his  responsibility  for  his  belief.  His  happiness,  whether  in  this 
world  or  the  next,  must  depend  upon  his  own  moral  character — and 
this  character  can  be  framed  and  molded  to  good  only  through  the 
inward  workings  of  truth  upon  his  heart.  If  any  preparation  of 
heart  be  necessary  to  fit  man  for  dwelling  in  the  presence  of  a  holy 
God,  and  rejoicing  in  the  intuition  of  this  glory,  he  can  obtain  it  only 
through  the  belief  of  such  truths  as  are  fitted  to  work  within  him  the 
transformation  needed.  To  assert  that  sincerity  will  give  to  error 
the  transforming  ef&cacy  of  truth,  is  to  give  the  lie  to  our  own  na- 
ture no  less  distinctly  than  to  the  Bible.  Look  into  your  own  hearts, 
my  hearers,  and  you  will  find  there,  in  its  manifest  adaptations  to 
the  truth,  strong  reasons  for  placing  your  faith  in  that  revelation 
which  is  distinguished  from  all  other  books  pretending  to  Divine  in- 
spiration, by  its  frequent  and  strong  recommendations  of  truth — 
which  exalts  truth  as  the  crown,  and  honor,  and  glory  of  a  man,  and 
lays  it  upon  him  as  one  of  its  most  sacred  duties,  to  seek  after  it  as 
for  hid  treasure,  and  which  represents  the  perfection  and  final  bliss  of 
the  glorified  spirit  as  a  direct  aspect  and  intuitive  beholding  of  truth 
in  its  pure  and  immutable  Source.  And  you  will  at  the  same  time 
learn  to  reject  the  dangerous  tolerance  which  looks  with  equal  re- 
gard, or  rather  with  equal  indifference  upon  all  opinions,  principles, 
and  persuasions  ;  which  is  utterly  careless  toward  all  truth  ;  which 
could  join  with  equal  satisfaction  in  the  becoming  and  reverent  so- 
lemnities of  Christian  worship,  or  in  the  imposture,  lust,  and  blood 
of  heathen  orgies  ;  which  recognizes  no  difference  between  the  truths 
which  teach  the  Christian  widow  to  turn  her  eye  from  the  corpse  of 
her  husband,  upward  to  his  and  her  Eedeemer,  and  then  devote  her- 
self to  rearing  with  pious  care  the  children  who  henceforth  are  to 
her  as  flowers  blooming  upon  the  father's  grave,  and  the  remorseless 
creed  which  goads  the  disconsolate  victim  to  burn  on  the  funeral  pile 
of  her  husband,  leaving  the  orphan  pledges  of  their  love  to  struggle 
with  the  hardships  from  which  a  parent's  care  should  have  shielded 
them.  Such  tolerance  can  come  only  from  the  unthinking  and 
senseless  cant  of  fashion,  or  the  deadly  narcotic  of  moral  and  relig- 
ious indifference.  It  proceeds  upon  an  assumption  which  is  false  in 
fact,  and  dishonoring  alike  to  the  reason  of  man,  and  the  truth  of 
God.  It  is  impossible  that  a  soul  into  which  this  viperous  error  has 
crept  should  avoid  being  benumbed,  paralyzed,  and  destroyed  by  its 
subtile  poison. 

The  argument,  thus  far,  has  attempted  to  establish  it  as  a  truth, 
that  man  is  responsible  for  his  belief,  from  the  fact  that  he  is  actually 
held  thus  responsible  in  the  affairs  of  this  life,  and  from  the  consid- 


THE    RESPONSIBILITY    OF    MAN    FOR    HIS    BELIEF.     571 

eration  that  his  constitution  has  been  so  formed  as  to  render  it  im- 
possible that  error,  however  sincerely  believed,  could  subserve  for 
him  the  beneficial  purposes  and  ends  of  truth. 

We  see,  with  our  bodily  eyes,  that  error  is  actually  attended  by 
suffering  in  the  present  life.  From  the  day  in  which  Eve,  beguiled 
by  the  tempter,  believed  that  the  forbidden  fruit  was  good  for  food, 
and  to  be  desired  to  make  one  wise,  until  now,  no  one  has  ever  list- 
ened to  the  serpent  voice  of  eri'or,  without  suffering,  in  some  degree, 
from  its  serpent  fang.  Behold,  in  this,  the  decision  of  the  question 
under  discussion,  at  the  bar  (?f  Divine  providence. 

And  again,  we  find  that  the  moral  nature  of  man,  which  contains 
within  it  the  springs  of  his  well-being,  has  been  so  constituted  that 
it  is  inaccessible  to  any  other  influence  for  good  than  that  which 
dwells  in  the  truth — and  that,  as  our  conceptions  have  no  tendency  to 
alter  the  real  nature  of  truth  and  error,  or  transmute  theii'  intrinsic 
qualities,  the  good  or  ill  effect  of  our  belief  must  of  necessity  depend, 
not  upon  the  sincerity  of  our  convictions,  but  upon  their  correspond- 
ence with  absolute  truth.  The  heart  from  which  bitter  waters  are 
welling  up  has  been  so  made  that  it  can  be  sweetened  only  by  the 
leaves  of  truth.  You  may  cast  into  this  fountain  other  branches,  but 
you  will  find,  in  the  end,  that  instead  of  purifying  its  waters,  you 
have  only  depraved  the  appetite  which  tastes  them. 

Behold,  in  this,  the  decision  of  the  same  question  by  our  Creator, 
in  the  day  when  He  said  "  Let  us  make  man  in  our  own  image." 

And  here,  having  gathered  up  the  concurrent  testimony  of  Na- 
ture, Providence,  and  Grace — of  our  Creator,  our  Euler,  and  our  Ee- 
deemer — all  declaring,  in  no  doubtful  terms,  that  man  is  accountable 
for  his  belief,  we  might  safely  leave  the  matter. 

But  I  may  be  called  upon  to  vindicate  the  justice  of  this  doctrine, 
as  well  as  to  establish  its  truth.  This  opens  a  wide  field  into  which 
we  can  now  enter  only  for  the  purpose  of  laying  down,  as  briefly  as 
may  be,  the  principles  which  are  to  guide  the  investigation. 

It  is  contended  that  the  doctrine  which  we  maintain  contradicts 
our  elementary  notions  of  right,  since  belief  is  an  involuntary  opera- 
tion of  mind,  and  volition  is  essential  to  merit  or  demerit.  The  prin- 
ciples upon  which  this  objection  rests,  contain,  like  all  dangerous 
error,  enough  of  the  semblance  of  truth  to  make  them  decejptive. 
No  lie  can  be  dangerous  unless  it  be  the  ghost  of  some  truth.  But 
it  is  not  difl&cult,  in  this  case,  to  detect  and  expose  the  fallacy.  It  is 
true  that  volition  is  a  necessary  constituent  of  the  morality  of  all  our 
outward  acts,  because,  without  a  preceding  determination  of  the  will, 
they  would  not  be  our  acts.     So  far,  the  principle  is  true.     Its  fal- 


572  ALBERT    B.    DOD. 

lacj  lies  in  extending  tlie  same  law  to  our  internal  affections.  It  is 
not  true,  that  any  distinct  act  of  the  will  is  necessary  to  impart  the 
character  of  morality  to  an  internal  state  or  disposition  of  heart.  For 
the  proof  of  this  I  need  only  to  refer  you  to  the  testimony  of  your 
own  consciousness.  You  can  not  resist  the  conviction  that  3"ou  are 
responsible  for  the  feelings  which  prevail  within  you,  no  less,  nay 
more,  than  for  the  outward  acts  to  which  they  lead.  Nor  can  you 
have  failed  to  observe  that  these  feelings  rise  and  fall,  come  and  de- 
part, often  without  any  direct  action  of  your  will  upon  them.  You 
hate  one  man,  and  you  love  another — not  because  you  have,  by  an 
act  of  will,  called  these  affections  into  being,  but  because  you  have 
received  in  their  respective  characters  those  qualities  which  are  fitted 
to  awaken  these  different  feelings.  You  hate  that  which  seems  to 
you  hateful,  and  you  love  that  which  appears  lovely ;  and  no  act  of 
the  will  can  impart  these  qualities  to  the  objects  which  appeal  to 
your  affections.  It  is  contended  that  belief  can  not  possess  any-moral 
character,  because,  when  we  have  arrived  at  the  end  of  any  proposi- 
tion, we  can  not  help  deciding  according  to  the  evidence  before  us. 
An  act  of  the  will  can  not  add  to  the  evidence  on  either  side,  any 
more  con\nncing  eificacy  than  intrinsically  belongs  to  it. 

But  is  not  this  equally  true  of  our  affections  ?  Where  any  object 
is  presented  to  the  affections,  can  an  act  of  the  will  change  its  appa- 
rent qualities  so  as  to  make  that  lovely  which  is  intrinsically  adapted 
to  excite  our  aversion  ?  The  consciousness  of  every  man  tells  him 
that  he  can  not  help  loving  that  which  seems  to  him  lovely,  any 
more  than  he  can  help  believing  that  which  seems  to  him  true,  and 
that  his  will  has  no  more  power  to  change  the  qualities  which  excite 
his  affections,  than  it  has  to  alter  the  evidence  which  controls  his  be- 
lief. If,  then,  his  affections  possess  a  moral  character,  which  no  one 
denies,  why  may  not  his  belief?  If  it  do  not,  it  must  be  for  some 
better  reason  than  its  independence  of  volition. 

But  it  will  be  said  that  our  affections,  though  not  directly  under 
the  control  of  volition,  are  nevertheless  voluntary.  The  exercise  of 
them  is  the  spontaneous  acting  out  of  our  nature ;  it  is  with  the  con- 
sent and  concurrence  of  all  our  active  powers. 

In  this  sense  of  the  word,  we  admit  that  no  act  or  state  of  the 
mind  can  merit  either  praise  or  blame  unless  it  be  voluntary  ;  and, 
in  this  sense  of  the  word,  we  deny  that  the  belief  of  moral  truth  is 
an  involuntary  operation  of  mind.  The  belief  of  truths  that  are  ac- 
companied by  demonstrative  evidence  possesses,  we  admit,  no  more 
moral  character  than  an  act  of  perception.     The  mind  comes  to  its 


THE    RESPONSIBILITY    OF    MAN    FOR    HIS    BELIEF.    573 

decision  under  the  same  kind  of  necessity  tliat  compels  us  to  see  an 
object  when  placed  before  our  eyes. 

But  the  case  is  evidently  different  with  moral  truths.  Here,  too, 
the  belief  must  be  according  to  the  evidence  perceived,  but  the  con- 
vincing power  of  this  evidence,  like  the  attractive  qualities  of  the 
objects  that  address  our  affections,  depends  upon  the  moral  state  of 
the  heart.  If  it  be  urged  here  that  the  responsibility  ought,  in  this 
case,  to  be  shifted  from  the  erroneous  belief  to  the  wrong  state  of 
heart  from  which  it  proceeds,  I  answer  that  I  can  see  no  reason  for 
this  transfer  which  would  not  apply  with  equal  force  to  induce  us,  in 
many  cases,  to  make  a  similar  transfer  from  one  affection  or  act  to 
the  belief  which  led  to  it.  Suppose  a^saian,  under  the  influence  of 
avarice,  to  wish,  in  the  first  instance)  for  the  death  of  some  one, 
whose  death  would  be  his  gain  ;  and  then  to  bring  himself  to  the 
conviction  that  it  was  right  for  him  to  remove  him ;  and  then  to  per- 
petrate the  murderous  deed ; — why  should  we,  in  this  case,  charge  the 
criminality  of  his  wrong  conviction  upon  the  avarice  which  prompt- 
ed it,  rather  than  the  sin  of  the  murder  upon  the  antecedent  persua- 
sion that  it  was  right  for  him  to  commit  it  ?  I  know  of  no  principle 
by  which  we  can  select  any  one  of  this  series  of  acts,  and  say, 
"  Here  lies  all  the  blame."  The  avarice  was  wrong,  the  murderous 
wish  was  wrong,  the  erroneous  belief  was  wrong,  and  the  assassin- 
blow  was  wrong.  The  wrong  conviction  was  as  voluntary  a  state 
of  mind  as  the  criminal  passion,  in  the  only  sense  in  which  volun- 
tariness is  essential  to  accountability. 

Men  judge  thus  habitually,  in  all  matters  where  religion  is  not 
in  question.  They  would  not  hesitate  to  condemn  the  man  who 
should  avoAv  his  belief  that  it  was  right  for  him  to  steal  or  commit 
murder,  and  you  could  hardly  put  a  plainer  affront  upon  their  moral 
sense,  than  by  telling  them  that  the  man  ought  to  be  held  free  from 
all  blame  until  he  has  carried  his  belief  out  into  act.  The  Bible  is, 
in  this  respect,  so  far  from  contradicting  our  natural  sentiments  of 
right,  that  it  harmonizes  exactly  with  them.  The  voice  of  conscience 
joins  with  the  voice  of  God  in  condemning  all  erroneous  belief 
which  arises  from  a  corrupt  state  of  heart. 

The  only  question,  then,  for  debate  in  connection  with  this  sub- 
ject, is  whether  the  truth  which  is  declared  to  be  necessary  for  our 
salvation  is  accompanied  with  sufiicient  evidence  to  satisfy  every 
rightly-disposed  mind.  This  question  I  shall  not  now  discuss,  but 
content  myself  with  referring  you,  when  you  ought  to  be  content  to 
receive  your  answer,  to  the  decision  of  Him  who  made  the  human 
mind,  and  who  knows  what  degree  of  evidence  is  necessary  to  fix 


574  ALBERT    B.    DOD. 

upon  it  tlie  responsibility  of  error.  The  Bible  affirms  that  the  rejec- 
tion of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  or  the  perversion  of  its  truths, 
can  have  its  origin  only  in  an  evil  heart,  and  is  therefore  a  proper 
and  just  reason  for  God's  condemning  sentence.  "  He  that  belie veth 
on  the  Son  of  God  is  not  condemned  ;  but  he  that  believeth  not  is 
condemned  already,  because  he  has  not  believed  in  the  name  of  the 
only-begotten  Son  of  God.  And  this  is  the  condemnation,  that 
light  is  come  into  the  world,  and  men  loved  darkness  rather  than 
light,  because  their  deeds  are  evil." 

Let  me  then,  in  conclusion,  urge  you,  my  hearers,  as  you  value 
the  purity  and  salvation  of  your  souls,  to  study,  revere,  love,  and 
obey  the  truth.  And  the  truth  shall  make  you  free ;  free  from  the 
thralldom  of  corrupt  desires  and  passions ;  free  to  rise  above  the 
tumults  and  cares  of  this  lower  world ;  free  to  look  upon  the  face  of 
Jesus  and  call  Him  your  Friend  and  Brother ;  free  to  partake  of  the 
Divine  nature  and  drink  of  the  river  of  God's  pleasures. 

But  remember,  too,  that  if  holiness  is  dependent  upon  truth,  your 
power  of  perceiving  the  truth  is  no  less  dependent  upon  your  purity 
of  heart.  Every  evil  affection  pours  its  bedimming  vapors  around 
your  understanding ;  every  sin  you  commit  blunts  your  power  of 
moral  perception,  and  involves  you  in  danger  of  error.  And  if  you 
continue  willfully  to  sin,  after  you  have  received  the  knowledge  of 
the  truth,  the  light  that  God  has  given  you  will  go  out  in  darkness, 
and  sparks  of  your  own  kindling  will  encompass  you,  and  light  you 
on  3'our  path  to  destruction.  You  shall  lose  your  way,  but  you  will 
think  yourself  right :  your  feet  shall  stumble  upon  the  dark  mount- 
ains, but  you  will  fancy  yourself  walking  in  a  smooth  or  level  path ; 
thick  clouds  shall  gather  over  you,  but  to  your  eye  they  will  take  the 
form  of  the  castle  and  battlements  of  heaven ;  until  at  length  your 
wanderings  shall  bring  you  to  the  verge  of  this  world,  and  the  awful 
plunge  awake  you  to  truth  and  to  misery.  "  Because  they  received 
not  the  love  of  the  truth,  that  they  might  be  saved,  for  this  cause 
God  shall  send  them  strong  delusion,  that  they  should  believe  a  lie ; 
that  they  all  might  be  damned  who  believe  not  the  truth,  but  had 
pleasure  in  unrighteousness." 


^futt|  ai  i\t  Wllth\  pulpit. 


THE    WELSH    PULPIT. 


There  is  reason  to  believe  that  from  the  earUest  times  Christianity 
has  existed  in  Wales.  It  is  even  clauned  that  Claudia,  who  was  con- 
verted under  Paul's  muiistry,  was  a  native  of  Wales,  and  that  comhig 
from  Kome  in  the  year  63,  she  scattered  the  "  seed  of  the  kingdom"  in 
her  own  country.  A  Uttle  more  than  a  century  later,  Faganus  and 
Damuiicanus,  who  also  had  been  converted  in  Rome,  began  to  preach  to 
their  countrymen  in  Wales ;  and  through  their  preaching,  Lucius  the 
king,  was  brought  to  embrace  Christianity.  Under  the  reign  of  Dio- 
cletian, the  Welsh  Christians  suffered  much  from  persecution ;  and  many 
were  put  to  death.  Subsequent  disasters  threatened  the  entire  extinc- 
tion of  the  Christian  religion ;  but  through  the  labors  of  Gildas,  Dyfrig, 
Dynawt,  Teil,  Padran,  Pawlin,  and  others,  it  survived  among  the  hills 
of  Cumrey.  The  Welsh  resisted  the  encroachments  of  popery  in  the 
seventh  century,  and  more  than  a  thousand,  many  of  whom  were  mmis- 
ters,  suffered  in  the  struggle.  But  the  adherents  of  the  true  faith  were 
overcome,  and,  driven  to  the  moimtains,  we  hear  nothing  of  them  till 
the  time  of  the  Reformation. 

About  the  year  1385,  Walter  Brute,  a  disciple  of  Wickliffe,  returned 
from  Oxford  where  he  had  been  pursuing  his  studies,  and  commenced 
the  work  of  reform  among  his  countrymen  in  Wales.  Preaching  in 
the  streets,  in  the  houses,  and  in  the  markets,  he  soon  became  a  noted 
reformer;  and  great  was  his  success.  Although  severely  persecuted, 
and  once  tried  for  heresy,  he  triumphed  over  his  accusers,  and  was 
cheered  by  the  conversion  to  his  views  of  several  of  the  Romish  clergy. 
Revivals  occurred  in  the  cloisters,  and  not  a  few  monks  came  forth  to 
proclaim  against  popery ;  while  on  every  hand  the  Lord  made  his  work 
to  progress.  In  1580,  John  Penry,  an  Episcopal  minister,  dissented 
from  the  Established  Church,  and  became  a  Baptist.  He  was  a  man  of 
liberal  education  and  of  fine  talents ;  and  became  widely  popular  as  a 
preacher.  After  prosecuting  his  ministry  with  great  success  for  more 
than  seven  years,  he  died  a  martyr.  He  is  said  to  have  been  the  first 
Baptist  minister  in  Wales  after  the  Reformation.  In  1620,  Erbury  and 
Worth  followed  the  example  of  Penry,  and  preached  with  wonderful 
unction  and  effect.     In  1635  they  were  ejected  from  their  parishes;  but, 

37 


578  THE    WELSH    PULPIT. 

notliing  daunted,  they  went  from  valley  to  valley,  and  mountain  to 
mountain,  preaching  the  word,  and  organizing  churches. 

During  the  mhiistry  of  Erbury  and  Worth,  arose  "  that  morning  star 
of  the  Baptist  churches  in  Wales" — ^Vavasor  Powell.  He  was  a  man  of 
great  eloquence  and  power ;  and  thousands  pressed  to  his  ministry, 
many  of  whom  were  converted  to  Christ.  Under  the  fearful  persecu- 
tions of  Charles  II.  of  England,  when  the  Baptists  of  Wales  suffered 
beyond  description,  Powell  was  cast  into  thirteen  different  prisons.  He 
died  m  1070.  Cotemporary  with  him,  were  many  faithful  laborers  in 
Wales,  among  whom  were  John  Myles,  and  the  noted  Roger  Williams, 
who  afterward  came  to  America,  After  the  death  of  Powell  and  his 
coadjutors,  the  work  of  God  declined,  and  for  a  century  made  but  little 
or  no  progress.  It  was  by  the  trumpet-tongued  eloquence  of  Chai'les 
Bala,  "  the  apostle  of  North  Wales,"  and  of  Howell  Harris,  and  Lewis 
Rees,  and  Daniel  Rowlands,  and  William  WilUams,  and  others,  in  the 
time  of  Wesley  and  Whitfield,  that  the  churches  were  again  aroused 
and  some  of  the  most  blessed  revivals  ever  known,  took  place.  Great 
were  the  zeal  and  activity  of  these  men,  and  everywhere  the  hand  of 
the  Lord  was  revealed  ^vith  power,  through  the  preaching  of  the  word. 
Shortly  afterward  the  celebrated  Christmas  Evans  appeared,  and  by  his 
eloquence  and  zeal,  awakened  a  profound  sensation  throughout  the  prin- 
cipahty.  Along  with  his,  stand  many  names  worthy  to  be  had  in  re- 
membrance ;  such  as  David  Charles  and  John  EUas,  and  Williams  of 
Wern,  and  Samuel  Breeze,  and  T.  Jones,  and  E,  Jones,  and  Titus  Lewis, 
and  Benjamin  Davies,  and  Jas.  Harris,  and  D.  Evans,  and  M.  Thomas, 
and  J.  Jenkins,  and  J.  Davis,  and  Morris  Jones,  and  Rees  Jones,  and 
many  others,  of  whom  it  has  been  said  that  every  one  of  them  was  a 
host. 

These  men  formed  a  constellation  of  preachers  in  Wales,  durmg  the 
first  quarter  of  the  present  century,  such  as  has  scarcely  been  excelled 
in  any  comitry  or  time.  They  were  nearly  all  sell-made  men,  and  men 
of  prayer,  and  of  faith,  whose  earnest,  affectionate,  and  glowing  utter- 
ances went  with  power  to  the  hearts  of  the  multitudes  who  hung  upon 
their  lips.  Their  names  and  labors,  however,  seldom  reached  beyond 
their  oa;!!  loved  hills  and  valleys,  and  posterity  must  content  itself  with 
very  few  written  accounts  concernmg  their  pious  deeds,  and  still  fewer  of 
their  pulpit  productions.  At  their  death  they  left  few  successors  in  the 
ministry,  of  equally  brilliant  talents ;  but  yet  there  are  few  countries  where 
the  pulpit  exerts  a  more  powerful  influence  than  in  Wales.  Of  this,  the 
religious  habits  of  the  people  are  a  sufficient  proof  It  has  often  been 
remarked  that  there  is  nothing  in  England,  or  in  any  other  country,  to 
compare  with  the  religious  life  of  this  remarkable  people.  The  leading 
religious  denominations  in  Wales,  are  the  Calvinistic  Methodists,  the 
Baptists,  the  Independents,  and  the  Wesleyan  Methodists.  There  are 
also  some  smaller  religious  denommations.     The  relative   number  of 


THE    WELSH    PULPIT.  679 

preachers,  we  are  not  able  to  give,  owing  to  the  want  of  reliable  statis- 
tics. From  the  last  census  of  Great  Britain,  it  appears  that  there  are 
eight  hundred  twenty-eight  places  of  worship  (and  probably  about  this 
number  of  ministers),  occupied  by  the  Calvinistic  Methodists.  There 
are  nearly  four  hundred  Baptist  churches,  and  about  the  same  number 
of  ministers. 

The  pulpit  of  Wales  exhibits  many  striking  peculiarities.  Preaching 
partakes  of  the  natural  characteristics  of  the  people  ;  which  character- 
istics seem  to  be  impressed  by  the  surrounding  material  objects  and  the 
face  of  the  country.  The  crag,  the  cliff,  and  the  lonely  glen  ;  the  heath, 
the  lake,  and  the  mountam ;  the  "  mist  rolling  up  the  hill-side,  the 
mournful  gust  sweeping  over  its  brow,  and  the  thundering  brawl  of  the 
cataract,"  are  objects  with  which  the  people  of  Wales  are  familiar  from 
their  birtli.  Add  to  this  that  they  are  of  Celtic  origin,  and,  therefore, 
highly  impressible,  and  in  love  with  the  imaginative,  the  gorgeous,  and 
the  poetic,  and  we  are  prepared  to  anticipate  the  leading  characteristics 
of  Welsh  preaching — not  depth,  argument,  method — but  warmth,  imag- 
ery, comparison,  illustration,  and  passionate  appeal. 

The  following  outline  of  the  prominent  features  of  the  Welsh  pulpit, 
is  condensed  from  an  interesting  sketch,  found  in  the  "Life  of  Rev.  Wil- 
liam Williams,"  of  Wern,  by  Rev.  James  Rhys  Jones.  It  is  especially 
applicable  to  the  highest  order  of  Welsh  preachers. 

Self-possession  is  a  striking  characteristic.  Welsh  ministers  en- 
joy very  fivoi'able  opportunities  for  acquiring  this  enviable,  invaluable 
power.  With  the  exception  of  those  settled  in  to\\ms  and  populous 
localities  (and  they  are  often  reHeved  by  strangers,  for  itinerating  is  not 
yet  out  of  fashion),  they  are  not  required  to  preach  so  often  to  the  same 
people  as  their  English  brethren.  A  tliin  and  scattered  population  com- 
pels them  to  be  pluralists  ;  and  as  their  chapels  lie  sufficiently  distant 
from  each  other  to  admit  of  their  preaching  the  same  sermon  twice  on 
the  same  day,  increased  confidence  is  necessarily  gained,  as  a  discourse 
will  be  delivered  the  second  and  third  time  with  greater  freedom  and 
boldness  than  the  first. 

The  acquisition  of  self-command  is  further  facilitated  by  frequent 
engagements  at  public  meetings,  of  Avhich  there  is  no  lack  in  Wales,  and 
also  by  the  practice  of  taking  preaching  tours,  when  the  ministers 
almost  invariably  preach  the  same  sermons.  They  thus  become  so  sure 
of  their  ground  by  going  over  it  so  repeatedly,  and  so  accustomed  to 
address  large  miscellaneous  congregations  in  the  open  air  and  elsewhere 
that  they  are  not  easily  disconcerted. 

Adaptation  is  another  characteristic  of  Welsh  preaching.  The 
generalivy  of  the  sermons  preached,  bear  evident  marks  of  having  been 
composed  in  view  of  the  real  exigences  and  capacities  of  the  people  for 
whom  they  were  intended.  Speculative  views  and  refined  disquisitions 
are  not  allowed  to  pass  in  lieu  of  evangelical  sentiments  and  Scriptural 


580  THE    WELSH    PULPIT. 

statements.  Those  aspects  of  truth  with  which  plain  people  can  not  Tbe 
exj^ected  to  have  much  sympathy  are  seldom,  if  ever,  presented  before 
an  audience.  Points  of  established  and  prevalent  belief  are  wisely  left 
undisturbed.  Matters  unto  which  ordinary  minds  '  can  not  attain'  are 
not  brought  down  from  their  elevation.  The  illustrations  employed  are 
dra^TO  from  incidents,  scenes,  and  occupations  with  which  the  parties 
for  whose  instruction  they  were  borrowed  are  supposed  to  be  intimately 
acquainted. 

The  style  is  simple  and  homely — for  the  preacher  feels  no  pleasm-e 
and  finds  no  interest  in  emj^loying  words  which  the  people  do  not  un- 
derstand. The  appearance  and  manner  of  the  Welsh  preacher  are 
admirably  adapted  to  secure  for  him  a  candid  hearing.  He  stands  be- 
fore his  audience  more  as  a  friend  than  an  official.  The  people  feel  that 
he  is  of  them,  and  with  them,  and  that  their  interests  are  one  and  undi- 
vided. In  general  he  is  a  plain-dressed  and  plain-spoken  man.  To  the 
refined  he  may  appear  unceremonious  and  blunt,  if  not  even  deficient  in 
courtesy :  but  he  is  never  eflieminate,  finical,  or  affected.  He  may  be 
rough  but  he  is  ever  manly.  His  is  not  the  strutting  gait  and  mincing 
enunciation  ;  and  he  is  about  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  be  concerned 
about  the  appearance  of  his  drapery  when  his  subject  has  warmed  huu 
into  eloquence. 

Another  very  prominent  feature  in  Welsh  preaching  is  the  preva- 
lence of  the  illustrative  style.  But  here  the  preacher  must  battle,  as 
best  he  can,  with  the  difficulties  arising  from  the  limited  range  of  ob- 
jects from  which  his  illustrations  are  to  be  drawn.  The  people  that 
flock  to  hear  him  know  nothing  of  the  arts  and  sciences.  Sealed  to 
them  are  the  languages  containing  the  wealth  of  history.  The  pages 
of  nature's  book  are  opened  before  them,  and  she  has  issued  some  of 
her  works  in  Wales  in  so  large  a  style  that  '  the  reader  may  run  through 
them.'  Rocks  and  mountains  are  characters  she  has  frequently  em- 
ployed. And  it  is  nature  with  her  varied  appearances,  together  with 
the  ordinary  pursuits  and  avocations  of  life,  that  the  preacher  must  lay 
under  contribution  if  he  would  expound  '  the  things  which  are  not  seen 
by  the  things  which  are  seen.'  Let  it  not,  however,  be  supposed  that 
they  cultivate  the  imagination  to  the  neglect  of  their  other  faculties,  or 
that  they  allow  themselves  to  be  carried  aAvay  by  its  witchery  into  the 
regions  of  improbability  and  fiction.  With  rare  exceptions  the  imagin- 
ation is  employed  as  the  handmaid  of  the  reason  and  judgment,  and 
restricted  pretty  c-loscly  to  its  ovra  legitimate  and  proper  province  which 
is  to  illustrate.  What  logic  is  exclusively  to  a  cold  unimpassioned  math- 
ematical mind,  that  is  imagination  suhorcUnately  to  the  Welsh  preacher. 
The  unpoetical  reasoner  arrives  at  conclusions  by  means  of  a  series  of 
therefores.,  as  stepping-stones — the  Welshman  establishes  his  pomts  by 
an  apt  illustration. 

Great  aptness  is  also  displayed  m  interpreting  and  turning  to  prac- 


THE    WELSH    PULPIT.  581 

tical  account  the  facts  and  historical  parts  of  Scripture.  The  narratives 
and  facts  of  the  Bible  are  treated  as  the  exponents  of  principles  and 
the  expositors  of  human  nature.  The  doctrinal  part  of  the  sacred  vol- 
ume is  illustrated  by  means  of  its  recorded  incidents.  Circumstances,  and 
events  which  had  suggested  no  useful  lessons  to  less  reflective  mhids  are 
so  expounded  that  they  become  '  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for 
correction,  for  instruction  in  righteousness.'  The  people  are  made  to 
see  how  the  '  things  which  were  written  aforetime  were  written  for  theu* 
learning.' 

If  there  was  any  one  thmg,  more  than  another,  in  which  the  cele- 
brated Wilhams,  of  Wern,  excelled  as  a  preacher,  it  was  in  the  novelty 
and  pertinence  of  his  illustrations.  Never,  perhaps,  since  the  days  of 
the  Great  Teacher,  did  any  preacher  lay  the  objects  of  nature  and  the  pur- 
suits of  men  under  greater  contributions  for  the  exposition  and  enforce- 
ment of  religious  truth.  All  things  seemed  to  whisper  something  to 
him  which  had  never  been  disclosed  before,  and  to  point  out  for  his  oc- 
cupation new  and  highly  advantageous  points  of  observation.  Some  men 
appear  to  examine  the  same  objects  always  from  the  same  spots,  and 
hence  the  sameness  of  their  reflections  ;  but  Williams  seemed  to  look  at 
every  thing  from  unfrequented  points  that  commanded  fresher  and 
bolder  views.  Every  object  in  nature — every  human  avocation — every 
incident  in  life  seemed  to  have  fastened  on  it  some  new  and  strikmg 
truth.  To  simplify  rather  than  embellish  a  subject  Avas  his  great  aim, 
and  hence  the  rejection  of  mere  flowers^  and  the  employment  of  only 
expository  images.  His  mind  was  of  too  masculine  a  cast,  and  too  sol- 
emnly/)/ef?^ec?  to  a  usefulness  in  all  pulpit  engagements,  to  admit  of  his 
dalljong  with  the  mere  ornaments  of  oratory.  His  use  of  comparisons 
was  sufticient  to  con"\dnce  any  one  that  he  attached  no  value  whatever 
to  them,  except  so  far  as  they  subserved  the  explanation  or  application 
of  truth.  Unlike  certain  showy  but  weak-minded  preachers,  who  are  so 
enamored  of  tinsel  and  glare  that  they  often  employ  even  religious 
truths  only  as  j^egs  on  which  to  suspend  a  fine  simile,  he,  on  the  con- 
trary, with  almost  instinctive  severity  of  taste,  allotted  to  figures  only  a 
subordinate  department  in  expoimding  the  great  verities  of  the  Bible. 

Passion  is  another  feature  in  Welsh  preaching.  This  capital  qual- 
ity, so  necessary  to  effective  speaking,  is  quite  natural  to  a  genuine  Celt. 
An  unimpassioned  Welshman  is  a  singular  phenomenon ;  and  Avhen  he 
is  cold  as  well  might  a  spark  be  dieted  from  an  icicle.  He  \\i\\  not 
stop  short  of  the  freezing  point.  The  usually  ignitible  temperament  of 
the  Cambrian  preacher  is  of  signal  service  to  him  in  addressing  an  au- 
dience. It  gives  an  air  of  unmistakable  earnestness  and  of  reality  to 
all  he  says.  Words  of  import  so  momentous  that  an  angel  might  well 
tremble  as  he  uttered  them',  are  not  pronounced  listlessly  and  allowed 
to  drop  hke  snow  from  his  lips.  It  makes  his  '  thoughts  breathe  and  his 
words  burn.'     It  is  this  which  produces,  and  renders  appropriate,  the 


582  THE    WELSH    PULPIT. 

bold  burst,  the  abrupt  apostrophe,  the  glowing  clfescription,  the  pas- 
sionate declamation,  the  burning  invective,  the  rousing  appeal,  and 
the  impetuous  thundering  charge.  It  was  his  tremendous  passion,  in 
conjunction  with  a  peei-less  imagination,  that  gave  Christmas  Evans  so 
niiich  power  over  a  congregation.  To  see  his  huge  frame  quivering 
with  emotion,  and  to  watch  the  hghtning  flash  of  his  eye — that  lustrous 
black  eye  of  which  Robert  Hall  said  it  would  do  to  lead  an  army  through 
a  wilderness — and  to  listen  to  the  wild  tones  of  his  shrill  voice  as  he 
mastered  the  difficult  prosopopceia.,  was  to  feel  completely  abandoned  to 
the  riotous  enthusiasm  of  the  moment.  Abstractions,  dry  as  the  bones 
which  Ezekiel  saw  of  old  in  the  valley,  he  could  clothe  with  sinews, 
flesh,  and  skin,  and,  breathing  life  into  them,  make  them  stand  on  their 
feet.  Of  scenes  enacted  centuries  ago  in  the  glens  and  on  the  hills  of 
Judea,  his  fire  and  fancy  enabled  him  to  furnish  so  vivid  a  representa- 
tion that  all  sense  of  the  distance,  both  of  time  and  place,  was  entirely 
lost ;  and  though  he  was  frequently  guilty  of  the  grossest  anachronisms, 
yet  so  admirably  sustained  were  the  parts  assigned  to  the  difierent  char- 
acters, and  so  life-like  and  natural  were  the  sentiments  pixt  mto  their 
mouths,  that  the  discrepancy,  however  glaring,  did  not  damage  the 
effect.  So  genuine  was  the  fire  that  burned  within  him,  and  so  com- 
pletely did  he  throw  the  whole  of  his  impassioned  soul  into  his  descrip- 
tions, that  even  the  fastidious  critic  Avas  '  taken  captive'  and  compelled 
to  become  his  admirer. 

The  delivery  of  a  Welsh  sermon  is  usually  marked  by  great  variety 
of  mtonation.  The  ear  is  entertained  while  the  mind  is  informed.  The 
charms  of  sound  secure  a  hearing  for  sense.  The  attention  of  an  audi- 
ence is  sustamed  to  the  close  of  a  discourse  without  weariness  or  flag- 
ging, as  the  speaker's  tones  are  constantly  varying  with  the  varying 
aspects  of  his  theme.  Welsh  ministers  need  not  have  any  fears  that 
mellifluous  and  varied  sounds  will  be  throAvn  away  upon  a  people  de- 
voted like  their  countrymen  to  melody  and  song.  And  so  sensible  are 
they  of  the  value  of  a  well-trained  voice  to  a  piibhc  speaker,  that  they 
pay  particular  attention  to  its  miprovement. 

The  Welsh  preacher,  in  his  expository  approach  to  the  selected 
topic  of  discourse,  is  in  general  cool  and  collected,  and  speaks  in  a  quiet 
and  somewhat  low  tone  of  voice.  As  he  advance  in  his  sermon  and 
fairly  gets  into  the  "  hwyl"  he  nearly  exhausts  the  variations  of  the  ga- 
mut. Now  there  is  the  shrill,  startling  alarm — and  then  the  deep,  sepul- 
chral tones  of  solemnity.  jSTow  we  have  the  dash  of  defiance — the  shout 
of  triumph — the  dance  of  joy — and  then  the  tremulous  accents  of  ten- 
derness— the  earnest  tones  of  remonstrance,  and  tlie  muttering  of  the 
thundering  denunciation.  Now  Ave  have  the  plaintive  melancholy  of 
bereavement's  soliloquy — the  wail  of  sorrow,  and  the  cry  of  despair — 
and  then  the  wild  ecstatic  notes  of  the  Christian  pilgrim,  as  with  the 
tear  in  his  eye,  he  sings  of  the  dawning  of  the  morn  that  will  set  him  in 


THE    WELSH    PULPIT.  583 

heaven's  Ijowers  of  repose.  Now  we  have  the  loud  voice  rending  the 
sky  and  awakening  the  echo — and  then  the  '  small  still  voice'  and  the 
whisper  of  confidence.  In  short  there  is  all  the  variety  both  of  manner 
and  tone  that  disinterested  love  or  friendship  would  employ  in  private 
in  attempting  to  dissuade  a  person  from  pursuing  a  suicidal  course,  or  to 
persuade  hun  to  follow  after  tMngs  in  harmony  with  the  tremendous 
destiny  of  an  immortal  creature. 

The  appeals  of  a  Welsh  preacher  are  in  general  of  the  most  un- 
compromising character.  They  are  not  frittered  away  by  apologetic 
disclaimers  of  '  this,  that,  and  the  other.'  They  come  with  the  sudden- 
ness and  disclosing  glance  of  the  lightning,  and  with  the  terribleness  of 
thunder.  Sometimes  the  preacher  holds  before  his  congregation  a  pic- 
ture which  he  has  been  pamting,  and  while  they  are  wrapt  in  silent  ad- 
miration of  its  fidelity  and  beauty,  there  comes  to  many  a  conscience  the 
rapier  thrust  of  '  Thou  art  the  man.'  No  one  knows  where  to  look  for 
the  application,  for  it  is  not  confined  to  the  close  of  a  discom-se.  There 
is  nothing  to  indicate  the  direction  from  which  the  preacher  may  come, 
or  in  what  way  he  wiU  make  his  attack  ;  and  nothing  in  the  nature  of 
the  subject  chosen  for  discussion,  or  in  the  manner  of  illustrating  it,  that 
offers  security  against  his  onsets. 

We  close  this  sketch  of  the  Welsh  pulpit  \ni\i  the  remark,  that 
Wales  has  given  to  the  American  churches  many  of  their  very  best 
preachers,  and  most  active,  influential  minds.  Saying  nothing  of  the 
great  apostle  of  religious  liberty  in  this  Western  world — ^Rogek  Wil- 
liams— nor  of  many  others  now  gone,  it  were  easy  to  form  a  long  list 
of  distinguished  names  of  American  clergymen,  who  are,  either  by  im- 
migration or  descent,  Welshmen. 


DISCOURSE  EIGHTY.FIRST. 

DAVID    CHARLES. 

This  well  known  Cahinistic  Welsh  preaclier  was  born  October  11, 
1762,  in  the  parish  of  St.  Clears,  south  of  Wales,  He  was  a  brother  of 
the  distinguished  "  Charles  of  Bala."  During  his  apprenticeship  as  a 
flax-dresser,  he  committed  to  memory  the  whole  of  Young's  "  Hight 
Thoughts."  About  the  year  1780  he  went  to  Bristol,  where  he  did 
much  to  improve  his  education,  and  deej^en  his  religious  feelings.  On 
his  return,  after  three  years,  he  set  himself  up  in  business,  and  although 
his  gifts  for  exhortation  and  prayer  soon  attracted  attention,  he  was  not 
induced  to  enter  the  mhiistry  until  forty  years  of  age.  The  paucity  of 
preachers  rendered  it  necessary  that  he  should  travel,  and  he  labored, 
for  a  time,  chiefly  in  the  EngUsh  parts  of  Caermarthenshire,  Pembroke- 
shire, and  Glamorganshire.  In  1828  a  stroke  of  apoplexy  deprived  him, 
to  a  great  extent,  of  the  use  of  his  bodily  and  intellectual  powers.  He 
remamed  speechless  for  six  years,  and  died  on  the  2d  of  September, 
1834.     He  belonged  to  the  Methodist  connection. 

Rev.  W.  Rees  in  his  life  of  "  Williams  of  Wern,"  speaks  of  David 
Charles  as  possessed  of  "  knowledge,  and  evangelical  experience,  of 
eagle-like  powers  of  penetration,  of  pure  and  exalted  taste,  and  of  senti- 
ments transcendentally  beautiful.  His  sermons  in  i:)rint,"  he  adds,  "  are 
like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver.  In  delivering  them,  the  preacher 
was  as  if  he  opened  a  mine  of  pearls  before  his  hearers,  digging  them 
out  gradually,  one  by  one."  Tlie  eminent  Ebenezer  Morris,  having 
heard  him  preach,  declared  that  he  had  no  heart  to  attempt  to  preach 
again.  Christmas  Evans  says  in  one  of  his  letters,  "  Mr.  Charles  was 
notable  among  divines ;  m  reperusing  his  sermons,  I  feel  holy  sparks 
emanating  fi'om  him,  as  fi-om  a  great  star,  and  meltmg  the  frost  of  my 
soul."  We  have  read  m  ost  of  his  sermons  which  have  been  translated, 
and  select  the  following  as  a  happy  specimen. 


CHRIST  ALL,  AND  IN"  ALL. 

"But  Christ  is  all,  and  in  all." — COLOSBLiKS,  iii.  11. 

K  it  be  inquired,  What  is  Christ  ?  the  answer  is,  Christ  is  aU — 
He  is  aU  things,  and  nothing  less.     If  it  be  asked,  Where  is  Christ  ? 


CHRIST   ALL    AND    IN    ALL.  585 

He  is  in  all.  Nature,  without  God,  is  nothing,  is  a  nonentity  ;  and 
so  also  the  moral  universe,  without  Christ,  is  nothing,  and  worse  than 
nothing. 

Christ  is  "in  all"  nature  as  God  ;  He  made  all  things.  " Bj  Him 
were  all  things  created,  that  are  in  heaven,  and  that  are  in  earth, 
visible  and  invisible,  whether  they  be  thrones,  or  dominions,  or  prin- 
cipalities, or  powers ;  all  things  were  created  by  Him,  and  for  Him ; 
and  He  is  before  all  things,  and  by  Him  all  things  consist,  and  He  is 
the  head  of  the  Church."  "  Thou,  Lord,  in  the  begining  hast  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  earth  ;  and  the  heavens  are  the  work  of  Thine 
hands."  "  Without  Him  was  not  any  thing  made  that  was  made— 
in  Him  was  life."  If  you  ask  creation,  in  any  of  its  parts.  What 
art  thou ?  the  answer  of  each  is,  "I  am  what  I  was  made  ;  I  have 
nothing  in  me  but  what  was  made  ;  He  that  made  me  is  '  in  all'  that 
I  am  ;  God,  in  His  work,  is  in  me,  and  in  all  that  I  am."  So  Christ, 
as  God,  is  "in  all"  creation.  The  heavens  declare  His  "glory." 
We  see  Christ  in  all  things,  as  a  certain  queen,  while  inspecting  the 
wonders  of  Solomon's  court,  saw  Solomon  himself,  and  his  wisdom, 
in  all  things.  If  we  see  aright,  when  we  look  around  us,  we  see 
Christ,  as  God,  in  every  object. 

Christ,  as  Mediator,  is  in  all  of  salvation — He  is  all,  and  in  alL 
He  became  bound  for  His  Church  in  the  everlasting  covenant.  He 
made  promises  "  before  the  world  began" — a  promise  of  propitiation 
to  the  Father,  and  of  "  eternal  life"  to  His  brethren.  "  In  hope  of 
eternal  life,  promised  before  the  world  began."  Life  to  man  could 
not  be  promised  without  an  equally  firm  promise  that  man's  debt 
should  be  paid.  Men  were  given  to  Christ  to  be  saved  to  eternal 
life,  and  His  engagement  on  account  of  their  offenses  was  accepted. 
They  were  in  a  lost  condition,  under  the  curse  of  the  law,  and  an 
atonement  was  promised  by  a  party  that  could  be  trusted  on  their  be- 
half. "  By  the  blood  of  Thy  covenant  I  have  sent  forth  Thy  pris- 
oners out  of  the  pit  wherein  is  no  water."  Christ  was  all  in  this 
matter — none  but  Him  could  promise,  and  none  but  Him  could  per- 
form. When  the  fullness  of  time  came,  and  on  coming  into  the 
world.  He  says,  "  Lo,  I  come  to  do  Thy  will,  0  God."  "  I  delight  to 
do  Thy  will,  O  my  God ;  yea.  Thy  law  is  within  My  heart."  He 
came  into  the  world :  for  what  ?  to  be  greatly  honored  in  the  world  ? 
No  ;  but  "  to  do  Thy  will  0  My  God," — to  suffer  dishonor,  and  con- 
tempt and  persecution ;  to  be  spit  upon,  and  to  die  a  disgraceful 
death,  Lo,  I  come  into  the  land  of  poverty,  and  of  suffering,  it  is 
the  will  of  My  Father  that  I  should  be  found  in  the  way  of  the 
wants  of  My  people,  and  My  steps  will  produce  an  effect  in  their 


586  DAVID    CHARLES. 

favor.  Lo,  I  am  come  into  Thy  vineyard.  0  justice ;  wliere  is  thj 
work  ?  I  will  do  it — I  will  finish  it,  so  that  nothing  will  remain  to  be 
done  by  My  followers,  but  obedience  and  love,  and  gratitude  to  My- 
self. I  will  magnify  Thee  in  Thy  commands  by  obedience  to  them, 
and  in  Thy  curses  by  suffering,  until  Thou  art  made  eternally 
glorious,  until  the  righteous  Lord  is  satisfied,  and  until  He  will  call 
unto  Thee  in  reference  to  every  believing  sinner,  "  Deliver  him  from 
going  down  to  the  pit :  I  have  found  a  ransom."  Christ  is  all  in 
this  work ;  His  humanity  was  all  the  sacrifice,  His  divine  nature  all 
the  altar,  and  His  person  all  the  priest.  "  By  His  own  blood  He 
entered  into  the  holy  place,  having  obtained  eternal  redemption  for 
us."  He  gave  all  He  was,  and  all  that  was  in  Him— He  gave 
Himself — He  gave  all  that  was  wanted.  If  justice  had  been  asked, 
What  dost  thou  want  ?  it  would  have  answered,  I  want  a  holy 
man ;  and  more  than  that,  I  want  God.  Christ  presents  both.  I 
want  obedience — I  must  have  it  unto  death.  This  was  found  in 
Christ.  Sufferings  were  wanted,  and  He  presents  them  ;  infinitude 
was  required  in  all,  and  all  things  afforded  in  Him  were  infinite — ' 
the  infiniteness  of  the  demand  was  met  by  infinite  recompense. 

Christ  is  a  perfect  example — He  is  all  in  this  also.  The  Law- 
giver is  given  to  the  law.  The  law  in  its  nature,  and  spirit,  and  full- 
ness, was  satisfied  in  His  life ;  and  in  its  penalties  it  was  satisfied  in 
His  blood.  He  was  perfect  in  all.  He  was  perfectly  lowly  in  suffer- 
ing, and  His  love  to  God  was  perfect  when  smitten  by  Him.  He 
manifested  perfect  love  on  the  cross,  "  My  God,  My  God,  why  hast 
Thou  forsaken  Me  ?"     O,  Father,  forgive  them. 

He  was  all  in  conquering  hell ;  there  was  no  one  with  Him  in 
the  contest.  He  was  alone  in  the  wilderness,  when  He  was  tempted 
of  the  devil ;  He  alone  withstood  the  temptation  of  the  bread,  when 
hunger  was  pressing  His  humanity  to  the  earth ;  He  withstood  the 
temptation  of  the  possession  of  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  when  He 
was  suftering  the  horrors  of  the  deepest  poverty.  He  withstood, 
and  in  wisdom  silenced,  the  Pharisees,  and  others  who  tempted  Him. 
He  stood  against  the  gates  of  hell  in  the  last  conflict,  when  the 
"hour"  of  the  enemy  was  come,  and  the  "power  of  darkness."  He 
then  "  spoiled  principalities  and  powers,  and  made  a  show  of  them 
openly."  "  I  have  trodden  the  wine-press  alone,  and  of  the  people 
there  was  none  with  Me ;  and  I  looked,  and  there  was  none  to  help ; 
and  I  wondered  that  there  was  none  to  uphold."  There  was  no  one 
with  Him  from  earth,  or  from  heaven  ;  His  God  had  forsaken  Him, 
and  His  disciples  had  left  Him  ;  He  was  all  in  this  battle.  His  own 
arm  brought  Him  victory ;  His  own  feet,  nailed  to  the  tree,  trod  upon 


CHRIST    ALL    AND    IN    ALL.  587 

the  Lead  of  the  serpent ;  His  own  person  on  tlie  cross  subdued  the 
power  of  hell. 

Wherever  Christ  was,  there  His  presence  was  strongly  marked 
by  events  :  the  earth,  the  sea,  and  the  winds  were  made  sensible  of 
His  presence.  Who  extracted  thy  sting,  0  death  ?  Who  spoiled 
thee  of  thy  victory,  0  grave  ?  Who  bruised  thy  head,  O  hell  ? 
Who  satisfied  thee,  O  justice?  It  was  that  Jew,  a  man  of  Nazareth, 
called  Jesus,  that  came  by,  and  He  had  an  arm  which  nothing  could 
resist.  His  presence  manifested  the  presence  of  God :  He  was  the 
power  of  God,  and  the  wisdom  of  God. 

Christ  is  all  to  the  sinner  to  bring  him  to  know  and  to  enjoy  God. 
Without  Him  there  is  nothin  g  in  the  universe  that  can  avail  to  bring 
us  one  step  toward  a  state  of  peace  and  salvation.  If  we  are  ever 
brought  to  God,  He  must  bring  us.  All  that  are  saved,  "them  must 
I  bring,  and  they  shall  hear  My  voice."  They  will  not  come  with- 
out Him — He  must  go  after  them  ;  the  Shepherd  must  find  them,  and 
bring  them  back  on  His  shoulder ;  no  one  ever  returned  by  other 
means.  He  brings  them  back  rejoicing.  The  voice  of  the  Son  of 
God  alone  quickens  the  spiritually  dead.  "  You  hath  He  quickened, 
who  were  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins." 

Christ  is  all  as  the  standard  and  pattern  of  holiness.  He  is  the 
model  according  to  which  the  Spirit  works  in  all  things.  As  the 
flocks  of  Jacob  conceived  according  to  what  was  before  their  eyes, 
so  the  mind's  conceptions  are  according  to  Christ  where  He  is  in  view. 
"  We  all,  with  open  face  beholding,  as  in  a  glass,  the  glory  of  the 
Lord,  are  changed  into  the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as 
by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord."  Before  your  eyes  Jesus  Christ  hath 
been  evidently  set  forth,  crucified  among  you,  "  my  little  children, 
of  whom  I  travail  in  birth  until  Christ  be  formed  in  you." 

Christ  is  all  our  righteousness.  We  have  redemption.  Where  ? 
"  In  Him."  "  In  Him,  through  His  blood,  the  forgiveness  of  sins, 
according  to  the  riches  of  His  grace."  Being  justified  freely  by  the 
grace  of  God,  through  the  redemption  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  He 
is  all  our  peace.  "  He  is  our  peace  who  hath  made  both  one,  and 
hath  broken  down  the  middle  wall  of  partition  between  us  ;  having 
abolished  in  his  flesh  the  enmity." 

Christ  is  all  for  the  support  of  the  believer  on  his  pilgrimage. 
If  he  wants  his  heart  cleansed,  the  blood  of  Christ  is  all  his  hope ; 
if  he  wants  strength  against  his  enemies,  his  resource  is  "  the  grace 
that  is  in  Christ  Jesus  ;"  if  he  hope  to  triumph  over  his  foes,  Christ 
says  to  him,  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee ;"  if  he  would  be  fruit- 
ful, he  must  abide  in  Christ  as  the  true  vine.     "  He  that  abideth  in 


588  DAVID    CHARLES. 

Me,  and  I  in  him,  tlie  same  bringeth  fortli  much  fruit ;  for  without 
Me  ye  can  do  nothing." 

It  is  the  great  consolation  of  the  godly  in  a  world  full  of  dark- 
ness and  tempests  that  all  things  are  in  His  hand,  and  that  they 
themselves  are  under  His  care !  There  is  not  a  movement  among 
their  enemies,  nor  a  plan  formed  against  them,  which  is  not  under 
His  control.  The  care  of  the  soul  is  upon  Him,  to  whom  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  world  is  committed.  "  Thy  Maker  is  thine  husband ; 
the  Lord  of  Hosts  is  His  name,  and  thy  Eedeemer  is  the  Holy  One 
of  Israel — the  God  of  the  whole  earth."  He  that  is  thine  husband 
made  all,  and  He  governs  all  for  Himself  and  thee  ;  the  keys  of  hell 
and  of  death  are  appendant  to  His  girdle. 

Do  you  live  upon  Him  who  is  All?  Look  where  you  will, 
there  is  no  one  that  has  any  thing  in  him  for  you  without  Christ. 
But  He  is  "  all."  "What  is  a  creature  for  j^ou,  who  is  in  debt  like 
yourselves  ?  What  is  the  law  for  you,  which  has  nothing  but  con- 
demnation for  the  guilty  ?  What  are  the  mercies  of  God  ?  They 
are  but  like  the  prison  allowance  to  the  condemned  criminal,  which 
keeps  him  alive  till  the  day  of  execution.  God  is  nothing  to  you 
without  Christ :  His  justice  threatens  thee  ;  His  holiness  burns  fear- 
fully against  thee,  and  His  majesty  makes  thee  tremble  :  His  mercy 
has  nothing  for  thee  without  the  Mediator.  Ask  all  the  attributes  of 
God,  Can  you  do  any  thing  for  the  transgressor?  and  they  answer, 
Nothing  but  damn  him,  if  he  has  not  to  do  with  Christ.  Go,  there- 
fore, to  Him  ;  He  is  all  in  this  matter,  and  He  is  able,  and  sufficient, 
and  wilHng.  Where  salvation  is,  Christ  is  all ;  where  Christ  is  not, 
damnation  is  all  for  the  transgressor. 

Christ  is  in  all.  In  Him  all  things  consist.  He  gave  being  to 
the  universe ;  he  gave  to  every  creature  their  appropriate  nature, 
and  He  upholds  them  all  by  the  word  of  His  power.  He  rules  the 
sun,  that  He  may  rule  the  day ;  and  He  maintains  the  order  of  the 
universe.  The  sparrows  do  not  fall  to  the  earth  without  His  permis- 
sion ;  He  "  made  a  decree  for  the  rain,  and  a  way  for  the  lightning 
of  the  thunder." 

He  is  in  all  of  Providence.  There  is  no  "  evil  in  a  city,  and  the 
Lord  hath  not  done  it ;"  that  is,  the  evil  of  punishment — the  evil  of 
sin  He  forever  disclaims.  God  threatens  with  the  highest  punish- 
ments those  who  attribute  events  to  chance  and  to  accidents.  There 
are  no  accidents  but  with  men.  "  I  will  punish  the  men  that  say 
in  their  heart.  The  Lord  will  not  do  good,  neither  will  He  do  evil." 
When  thousands  fall  in  battle,  He  counts  them.  "  I  will  number 
you  to  the  sword."     The  keys  of  the  grave  are  upon  His  shoulder,  , 


CHRIST    ALL    AND    IN    ALL.  589 

"  He  telleth  the  number  of  the  stars ;  He  calleth  them  bj  their  names 
— His  understanding  is  infinite."  "  He  healeth  the  broken  in  heart, 
and  bindeth  up  their  wounds." 

He  is  in  all  of  justification.  It  is  He  that  sets  the  sinner  free. 
"  If  the  Son  make  you  free,  ye  shall  be  free  indeed."  He  forgives  the 
trespass,  and  the  fetters  speedily  fall  off.  He  has  righteousness  for 
the  ungodly,  but  He  Himself  is  in  that  righteousness ;  it  is  by  his 
union  with  Christ,  that  the  sinner  becomes  possessed  of  righteous- 
ness. It  is  He  that  enables  him  to  believe ;  and  it  is  through  His 
righteousness  he  becomes  possessed  of  all  things,  including  the  very 
hand  to  receive  the  gifts.  It  is  in  the  justification  that  He  orders  the 
change  of  raiment,  "  In  the  Lord  have  we  righteousness  and 
strength."  With  His  voice  He  first  gave  light  to  His  people,  and 
with  the  same  voice  He  avUI  raise  up  their  bodies  from  the  grave. 

He  is  all  of  sanctification.  To  love  Him  is  to  be  holy.  His 
nature  is  the  nature  of  holiness,  and  the  sanctified  soul  only  receives 
of  His  fullness.  To  be  "  conformed  to  the  image  of  His  Son,"  they 
were  renewed,  and  in  this  image  they  shall  be  without  fault  before 
God.  No  holiness  will  be  found  upon  the  glorified  Church  but  what 
proceeded  from  Christ.  That  which  is  the  source  of  holiness  on 
earth,  will  be  forever  the  source  of  it  in  heaven.  He  begins  a  good 
work  now,  which  He  will  carry  on  to  perfection  and  forever  support. 

Christ  is  all  in  the  means  of  grace  ;  if  He  is  not  there,  the  means 
are  no  means  of  grace  at  all.  Paul  plants,  and  Apollos  waters,  and 
neither  does  more  than  this:  God  in  Christ,  must  secure  the  growth. 
Why  look  we  at  men,  expecting  this  or  that  to  be  done  by  them  ? 
They  are  but  earthen  vessels,  holding  a  precious  treasure,  by  means 
of  which  Christ  works  by  the  excellency  of  His  power.  Ordinances 
have  nothing  to  give  without  Him.  Is  he  in  them?  If  so,  they 
will  answer  the  purpose.  They  were  not  intended  but  to  show  Him 
in  them.  There  was  no  virtue  in  the  hem  of  the  garment  but  what 
it  received  from  the  Wearer, 

Christ  will  be  all  in  our  triumph  in  death.  He  will  give  us  an 
abundant  entrance  into  His  everlasting  kingdom.  He  was  the  Shep- 
herd, in  whom  David  trusted,  when  he  entered  the  dark  valley. 
With  the  keys  he  carries  He  opens,  and  no  one  can  shut.  "  I  wiU 
come  again,  and  receive  you  unto  Myself,  that  where  I  am,  there  ye 
may  be  also,"  In  an  hour  we  think  not  He  will  come.  The  Son 
of  Man  will  come — the  fever,  or  whatever  event  will  accompany  His 
approach,  is  of  no  importance,  He,  who  is  "in  all"  things  for  His 
people,  the  Son  of  Man  being  in  it,  will  make  it  a  glorious  and 
abundant  entrance  into  the  everlasting  king-dom. 


590  DAVID    CHARLES. 

Christ  will  be  all  in  tlie  resurrection  of  tlie  dead.  "  The  hour  is 
coming,  in  the  which  all  that  are  in  the  graves  shall  hear  His  voice, 
and  shall  come  forth ;  they  that  have  done  good  unto  the  resurrec- 
tion of  life ;  and  they  that  have  done  evil  unto  the  resurrection  of 
damnation."  Some  will  be  raised  united  to  Him :  and  He  "  shall 
change  our  vile  body,  that  it  may  be  fashioned  like  unto  His  glorious 
body."  He  will  send  His  angels,  after  He  has  raised  them  with  His 
voice,  to  gather  His  saints  together.  He  is  the  Spirit  that  quickens 
the  souls  of  His  people  first ;  and  which,  in  the  second  place,  will 
quicken  their  bodies.     In  Christ  they  shall  be  made  alive. 

Christ  will  be  all  in  judgment.  No  one  shall  be  found  then 
usurping  His  throne.  He  alone  will  judge  men  and  angels.  The 
very  Man  that  was  seen  here  at  the  bar  of  Pilate,  will  be  there 
"  taking  vengeance  on  them  that  know  not  God,  and  that  obey  not 
the  Gospel."  He  who  rode  the  ass  colt  toward  Jerusalem,  will  be 
seen  riding  the  cloud,  "  revealed  from  heaven  with  His  mighty  an- 
gels." He  even  now  holds  the  devils  in  chains  of  darkness  against 
the  judgment  of  the  appointed  day  ;  and  they  knew  their  Judge  when 
men  failed  to  know  Him.  "  Art  Thou  come  here  to  torment  us  he- 
fore  the  time,  Jesus,  thou  Son  of  God  ?"  Their  objection  was  not  to 
the  person  of  the  Judge,  but  the  time :  they  had  ho^oe  of  another  day 
for  the  assize,  but  they  had  no  notion  of  another  occupant  of  the 
bench.  When  "  He  shall  come  to  be  glorified  in  His  saints,  and  to 
be  admired  in  all  them  that  believe,"  He  will  be  glorious  in  His  ap- 
pearance. "Behold,  He  cometh  with  clouds;  and  every  ej^e  shall 
see  Him ;  and  they  also  who  pierced  Him ;  and  all  kindreds  of  the 
earth  shall  w\^il  because  of  Him."  I  saw  "one  like  unto  the  Son  of 
Man,  clothed  with  a  garment  down  to  the  foot,  and  girt  round  the 
paps  with  a  golden  girdle :  his  head  and  his  hairs  were  white  like 
wool,  as  white  as  snow ;  and  his  eyes  were  as  a  flame  of  fire;  and 
his  feet  like  unto  fine  brass,  as  if  they  burned  in  a  furnace  ;  and  his 
voice  as  the  sound  of  many  waters  ;  his  countenance  was  as  the  sun 
shineth  in  his  strength." 

He  will  be  the  Judge  in  His  own  cause — a  privilege  carefully 
denied  to  fallible  judges  ;  the  great  question  of  the  judgment  will  be, 
How  did  the  subjects  conduct  themselves  toward  their  King?  The 
weight  and  awfulness  of  the  trial  will  center  on  this  point ;  and  this 
being  made  manifest,  will  throw  light  on  all  besides.  When  the  Son 
of  Man  shall  come  in  His  glorj',  and  all  the  holy  angels  with  Him, 
then  shall  He  sit  on  the  throne  of  His  glory  ;  and  before  Him  shall  be 
gathered  all  nations;  and  He  shall  separate  them  one  fi-om  another — 
then  shall  the  King  say  unto  them  on  His  right  hand,  "  Come,  ye  blessed 


CHRIST    ALL    AXD    IN    ALL.  69^ 

of  My  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  yon  from  the  foun- 
dation of  the  world  :  for  I  was  an  hungered,  thirsty  and  naked,  and  in 
prison,  and  ye  ministered  unto  Me.  And  He  shall  say  also  to  them 
on  the  left  hand,  Depart  from  Me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  for 
I  was  with  you,  and  you  did  not  minister  unto  Me."  The  behavior 
of  the  highest  person  concerned,  is  the  highest  point  of  the  judgment. 
Many  will  have  passed  through  the  world  without  knowing  that  the 
cause  and  the  people  of  Christ  are  present  with  them,  and  the  light 
of  the  judgment- day  will  give  them  the  conviction  of  their  blindness 
and  indifference. 

Christ  will  be  all  in  the  punishment  of  angels  and  men.  The 
"  wrath  of  the  Lamb"  will  from  the  entire  measure  of  their  eternal 
misery.  He  will  break  them  to  pieces  with  His  rod  of  iron,  "  De- 
part from  Me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire:"  and  they  shall  wail 
because  of  Him.  They  "shall  say  to  the  mountains  and  rocks, 
Fall  on  us,  and  hide  us  from  the  face  of  Him  that  sitteth  on  the 
throne,  and  from  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb." 

He  will  be  all  in  the  glory  of  the  saints.  His  glory  will  consti- 
tute their  glory  :  "■  The  glory ^  which  Thou  gavest  Me,  I  have  given 
them.  Father,  I  will  that  they  be  with  Me  where  I  am,  that  they 
may  behold  My  glory,  which  Thou  hast  given  Me."  Their  claim  to 
glory  is  of  Him.  He  enters  into  His  glory — His  own  glory,  exist- 
ing in  the  promise  of  the  Father,  made  to  Him  when  He  promised 
the  ransom  for  His  saints ;  and  they  enter  into  His  glory.  They 
were  raised  with  Him  from  the  dead  in  His  resurrection,  and  they 
sit  with  Him  in  heavenly  places.  Their  meekness  is  of  Him.  He 
gave  them  a  proof  of  His  love  to  them,  when  He  purified  them  un- 
to Himself,  making  them  His  peculiar  people.  He  "loved  the 
Church,  and  gave  Himself  for  it,  that  He  might  satisfy  and  cleanse 
it — that  He  might  present  it  to  Himself  a  glorious  church,  not  hav- 
ing spot  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing ;  but  that  it  should  be  holy 
and  without  blemish."  He  gives  the  right  to  glory,  and  the  meet- 
ness  to  enjoy  it.  There  will  be  no  more  glory  in  heaven  besides 
what  proceeds  from  Christ,  and  through  Him,  than  there  is  light  in 
the  world  without  the  sun.  To  see  Him  as  He  is — to  be  for  ever 
with  Him,  and  to  be  like  Him,  will  be  the  whole  of  heaven's  hap- 
piness and  glory. 

If  Christ,  then,  is  all,  look  to  Christ  in  all.  If  thou  art  guilty, 
look  to  Him  for  righteousness.  There  is  righteousness  in  Him  for 
such  as  thou  art,  and  there  is  no  way  of  escaping  damnation  but 
through  Him.  To  be  justified  without  believing  in  the  Son  of  Grod 
is  impossible.     He  is  a  fountain  of  grace  to  His  people.     Come  to 


592  DAVID    CHARLES. 

Him  in  your  wretchedness — He  will  cleanse  thee,  and  purify  even 
thee  to  Himself;  and  He  will  give  thee  a  new  heart. 

If  He  is  all  in  providence,  why  do  you  quarrel  with  second 
causes?  The  government  is  npon  His  shoulder.  The  Father  sees 
His  shoulder  sufficient  to  bear  the  burden  He  has  placed  upon  it, 
and  why  should  not  we  ?  Moses'  shoulder  was  too  weak  for  the 
government  of  Israel  without  help ;  but  it  is  not  so  with  Christ, 
He  is  Head  over  all  things  to  His  church — not  a  Head  over  the 
church  merely,  but  over  all  things  else,  for  the  good  of  the  church 
— over  the  world,  and  angels,  and  principalities;  over  death,  and 
hell,  and  the  grave.  Nothing,  from  the  throne  of  God  to  the  depth 
of  perdition,  moves  but  by  His  sufferance  or  command.  Every 
angel  serves  Him,  and  every  devil  is  chained  to  His  will ;  every 
angel  willingly  works  for  Him,  and  every  devil  unwillingly  serves 
Him.  He  is  the  Prince  of  the  kings  of  the  earth.  "By  Him 
princes  rule,  and  all  the  judges  of  the  earth."  The  shoulder  that 
bore  the  cross,  bears  the  government  of  all,  and  He  makes  all  things 
work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God. 

If  Christ  is  in  all,  then  the  way  to  encounter  all,  and  pass  through 
all  without  harm,  is  to  go  to  Him.  Joseph  was  all  in  Egypt  once, 
and  the  first  point  was  to  gain  his  favor  ;  and  so  it  is  with  us ;  the 
great  question  is,  how  do  matters  stand  between  us  and  Christ? 
The  answer  to  this,  is  an  answer  to  all  inferior  inquiries.  What  is 
there  in  providence  that  affects  us?  Nothing  but  what  He  who 
loves  you  has  appointed.  Seek  to  discern  Him  in  all  things ;  seek 
faith,  and  He  will  be  seen  as  He  is  in  all. 

Let  those,  whose  concerns  are  in  His  hand,  acknowledge  His 
sufficiency.  Acknowledge  Him  to  be  in  all,  by  trusting  Him  in  all. 
It  shall  be  with  you,  not  as  others  would  have  it,  but  as  He  who 
loves  you  has  ordained.  He  loves  you  better  than  you  can  love 
yourselves ;  your  own  love  will  but  destroy  you ;  but  in  His  love 
there  is  salvatiok. 

Have  5'ou  been  shut  out  from  all  things  but  living  to  Christ  ? 
No  one  will  come  to  Him  but  the  man  who  has  lost  all.  The  want 
of  all  things,  shows  the  value  and  importance  of  Him  who  is  in  all. 
While  you  have  any  thing  else,  you  can  live  without  Christ,  and 
you  will  die  in  your  rejection  of  Him.  0,  the  mercy  of  discovering 
our  poverty  before  it  is  too  late.  The  spirit  of  fullness  and  suffi- 
ciency stands  in  the  way  of  coming  to  Christ. 

If  you  have  found  all  in  one  place,  do  not  again  wander  hither 
and  thither.  Go  straight  to  Him  who  gives  freely  to  all  who  will 
receive.     Be  frequently  examining  yourselves,  as  to  where  your  all 


CHRIST    ALL    AND    IN    ALL.  593 

lies,  and  what  you  tliink  you  possess  iritTiout  Christ ;  whether  any 
thing  besides  destruction  awaits  you.  Why  should  your  hearts  be 
found  any  where  besides  where  your  treasure  is,  your  all  ?  "  Abide 
in  Me,  and  I  in  you."  "He  that  eateth  Me,  he  shall  live  by  Me." 
To  live  on  Christ,  is  to  honor  the  plan  of  mercy  and  the  wisdom  of 
God.  The  act  of  living  upon  Christ  is  pleasing  unto  God.  This  is 
the  work  of  God,  that  ye  believe  on  Him  whom  He  hath  sent.  By 
this  you  honor  God's  eternal  counsel ;  if  you  had  no  opportunity  to 
do  any  thing  besides  this  for  God  in  the  world.  He  would  consider 
thy  falling  in  with  His  plan  an  honor  done  to  Him.  Christ  is  suit- 
able in  all  that  He  is  to  supply  our  various  wants.  He  is  the  bread 
from  heaven,  and  we  feed  upon  Him :  He  is  the  fountain  for  sin 
and  uncleanness :  the  fountain  was  opened  to  cleanse  from  these, 
and  it  must  be  used.  There  is  no  way  of  being  fruitful  but  by 
coming  to  Him  :  "  our  fruit  is  of  Him."  "  Without  Him  we  can  do 
nothing."  "  I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  which  strengtheneth 
me."  Speak  not  of  imperfections  and  failings  while  you  have  Christ 
at  hand.  He  says,  "  I  am  with  you  always,"  and  He  is  All.  I  can 
do  all  thines  throusfh  Him. 

Those  that  live  upon  Christ,  making  Him  their  all,  are  desirous 
of  living  to  Christ — to  His  glory.  The  woman  of  Samaria  began  to 
be  something  for  Christ  before  she  Avas  aware  of  it.  "  Come,  see  a 
man — is  not  this  the  Christ?"  "  He  that  had  been  possessed  with 
the  devil,  prayed  Him  that  he  might  be  with  Him,"  but  that  was  not 
allowed  him  at  that  time,  but  Christ  commanded  him  at  the  same 
time  to  be  in  His  service.  "  Go  home  to  thy  friends,  and  tell  them 
how  great  things  the  Lord  hath  done  for  thee,  and  hath  had  compas- 
sion on  thee."  Two  things  there  are,  one  of  which  occupies  the 
thought  of  every  one — self  and  Christ.  No  one  cares  for  Christ 
until  he  has  committed  himself  to  Him,  until  he  can  say,  "  I  know 
in  whom  I  have  believed."  Thou  canst  never  care  for  thyself  to 
any  purpose ;  it  is  too  great  a  task  for  thee — self  has  wants  thou 
canst  never  suppl}^,  it  has  guilt  thou  canst  never  remove,  fears  thou 
canst  not  dispel,  filth  thou  canst  not  cleanse,  enemies  thou  cast  never 
conquer,  desires  thou  canst  never  accomplish.  Thou  wilt  surely  fail 
in  all  these.  "  He  that  seeks  his  life  shall  lose  it."  To  whom,  then, 
will  you  give  the  care  of  the  soul  when  you  are  dying  ?  Stephen 
committed  his  soul  to  Christ.     "  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit," 

Let  us  see,  if  Christ  is  all  to  us,  what  we  are  to  Him.  The  hus- 
band is  all  to  his  wife,  and  shall  the  wife  be  devoted  to  another  man  ? 
Shall  Christ  be  all  to  us,  and  we  be  all  to  Satan  ?  Let  us  see  what 
Christ  possesses  which  He  withholds  from  the  believer.    He  possess- 

38 


594  DAVID    CHARLES. 

es  nothing ;  His  blood  is  our  ransom,  His  strength  is  tp  help  us, 
His  victory  over  death  and  the  grave  is  for  us,  and  His  merits  give 
us  a  claim  to  heaven.  Have  we  any  tiling  which  we  withhold  from 
Him?  If  we  have,  the  proof  that  Christ  is  ours  is  insufficient. 
AVhen  God  asked  Abraham  for  his  son,  He  got  him  ;  when  He  re- 
quired of  some  their  possessions.  He  received  them  ;  and  when  He 
demanded  the  lives  of  others,  they  were  given  up  to  Him. 

Do  not  go  to  judgment  and  to  eternity  poor,  while  all  things 
suitable  for  you  are  within  your  reach ;  they  are  offered  at  your  very 
doors — there  is  no  excuse  for  the  eternal  poverty  of  the  unbeliever. 
Every  thing  that  suits  the  eternal  world  you  are  going  to  is  at  hand. 
Christ  is  all  for  His  people  here,  and  He  is  a  suitable  inheritance  for 
them  hereafter. 

None  are  so  faithful  as  the  subjects  of  sin — they  rush  upon  eter- 
nal death  for  its  sake.  Although  devils  and  the  damned  have  been 
in  flames  for  thousands  of  years,  on  account  of  sin,  yet  the  unbe- 
liever in  the  world  loves  sin  as  much  as  ever.  Many  a  subject  boasts 
that  he  will  lay  down  his  life  for  his  king  ;  but  here  all  do  the  thing 
without  hesitation  ;  they  give  their  souls  and  their  bodies  to  ever- 
lastins  destruction  for  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season. 


DISCOURSE     EIGHTY-SECOND. 

CHKISTMAS    EVANS. 

This  great  piilpit  orator  was  born  at  Ysgarwen,  Cardiganshire,  South 
Wales,  on  the  25th  of  December,  1766.  His  father  died  when  he  was 
only  nine  years  old,  and  he  spent  his  early  years,  subsequent  to  this,  as  a 
servant  for  the  farmers  in  the  parish.  At  the  age  of  seventeen  he  was 
so  ignorant  as  to  be  unable  to  read  a  word.  He  soon,  however,  became 
the  subject  of  deep  religious  impressions,  and  in  an  incredibly  short  time 
learned  to  read  the  Scriptures.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  he  joined  the 
Arminian  Presbyterians,  and  began  to  exercise  his  gifts  in  prayer  and 
exhortation.  He  shortly  after  preached  his  first  sermon,  but  feeling  the 
need  of  more  education,  devoted  himself  for  some  tune  to  study  under 
the  direction  of  his  pastor.  In  the  year  1788  he  adopted  the  views  of 
the  Baptists,  and  was  received  mto  the  fellowship  of  a  church  of  that 
faith  at  Aberduer.  In  1790  he  was  ordained  a  missionary  to  several 
small  churches  in  the  vicinity  of  Leyn.  Two  years  after  this  he  \'isited 
South  "Wales,  where  his  preaching  was  attended  with  the  most  remarka- 
ble awakening  of  the  churches,  and  the  conversion  of  multitudes  to 
Christ.  At  the  age  of  forty-six  years  he  settled  at  Anglesea.  A  power- 
ful revival  began  under  his  labors,  and  continued  for  several  years.  He 
remained  here  foiirteen  yeai's  and  then  took  charge  of  the  Baptist  church 
in  Caerphilly,  Glamorganshire,  where  he  preached  two  years ;  after 
which  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  church  in  Cardiff,  a  neighboring  town. 
During  his  ministry  of  two  and  a  half  years  at  this  place  he  wi'ote  about 
two  hundred  sermons  for  the  press,  many  of  which  have  since  been  pub- 
lished. His  last  charge  was  in  Caernarvon.  On  the  sixteenth  of  July, 
1838,  he  preached  at  Swansea,  and  said,  as  he  sat  down,  "This  is  my  last 
sermon ;"  and  so  it  proved ;  for  that  night  he  was  taken  violently  ill, 
and  died  three  days  afterward,  in  his  seventy-third  year,  and  the  fifty- 
foiu'th  of  his  ministry. 

Evans's  descriptive  powers  were  perhaps  never  excelled.  His  imagin- 
ation was  of  the  impei-ial  order,  and  absolutely  knew  no  bounds  ;  and 
his  facility  in  the  ready  use  of  language  altogether  wonderful.  Besides 
this  he  was  a  man  of  the  liveliest  sensibilities,  and  always  spoke  out  of  a 
fiill  heart,  sometimes  storming  his  hearers  with  his  impassioned  earnest- 


596  CHRISTMAS    EVANS. 

ness,  and  sometimes  himself  overwlielmed  with  the  magnitude  and  grand- 
eur of  his  theme.  Add  to  this  his  pre-eminent  faith  and  holiness  of 
Hfe,  and  we  discover  the  seci'et  of  his  astonishing  pulpit  eloquence — 
which,  according  to  Robert  Hall,  entitles  him  to  be  ranked  among  the 
first  men  of  his  age.  The  best  edition  of  Evans's  sermons  is  that  by 
Joseph  Cross,  Of  course  no  translator  can  do  hun  full  justice,  but  the 
wide  popularity  of  these  discourses  is  the  best  evidence  of  their  real 
merit,  though  in  a  foreign  dress.  Perhaps  there  is  no  one,  upon  the 
whole,  superior  to  that  which  is  here  given.  It  contams  one  or  two 
passages,  which,  for  originahty  and  briUiancy  of  conception,  and  for 
force  of  utterance,  are  absolutely  unrivalled. 


THE  FALL  AND  RECOVERY  OF  MAK 

"For  if,  through  the  offense  of  one,  many  be  dead;  much  more  the  grace  of  God, 
and  the  gift  by  grace,  ■which  is  by  one  man,  Jesus  Christ,  hath  abounded  unto  many." — 
Romans,  v.  15. 

Man  was  created  in  the  image  of  God.  Knowledge  and  perfect 
holiness  were  impressed  upon  the  very  nature  and  faculties  of  his 
soul.  He  had  constant  access  to  Lis  Maker,  and  enjoyed  free  com- 
munion with  Him,  on  the  ground  of  bis  spotless,  moral  rectitude. 
But  alas!  the  glorious  diadem  is  broken ;  the  crown  of  righteous- 
ness is  fallen.  Man's  purity  is  gone,  and  his  happiness  is  forfeited. 
"There  is  none  righteous;  no,  not  one."  "All  have  sinned,  and 
come  short  of  the  glory  of  God."  But  the  ruin  is  not  hopeless. 
"What  was  lost  in  Adam,  is  restored  in  Christ.  His  blood  redeems 
us  from  bondage,  and  His  Gospel  gives  us  back  the  forfeited  inherit- 
ance, "  For  if,  through  the  oifense  of  one,  many  be  dead ;  much 
more  the  grace  of  God,  and  the  gift  by  grace,  which  is  by  one  man, 
Jesus  Christ,  hath  abounded  unto  many."  Let  us  consider ; — First^ 
The  corruption  and  condemnation  of  man ;  and  Secondly,  his  gra- 
cious restoration  to  the  favor  of  his  offended  God. 

L  To  find  the  cause  of  man's  corruption  and  condemnation,  we 
must  go  back  to  Eden.  The  eating  of  the  "  forbidden  tree"  was 
"  the  offense  of  one,"  in  consequence  of  which  "  many  are  dead." 
This  was  the  "sin,"  the  act  of  "disobedience,"  which  "brought 
death  into  the  world,  and  all  our  woe."  It  was  the  greatest  ingrat- 
itude to  the  Divine  bounty,  and  the  boldest  rebellion  against  the 
Divine  sovereignty.  The  royalty  of  God  was  contemned;  the 
riches  of  His  goodness  slighted ;  and  His  most  desperate  enemy  pre- 


THE  FALL  AND  RECOVERY  OP  MAN.        597 

ferred  before  Him,  as  if  He  were  a  wiser  counselor  than  Infinite 
Wisdom.  Thus  man  joined  in  league  with  hell,  against  heaven; 
with  demons  of  the  bottomless  pit,  against  the  Almighty  Maker  and 
Benefactor;  robbing  God  of  the  obedience  due  to  His  command, 
and  the  glory  due  to  His  name  ;  worshiping  the  creature,  instead  of 
the  Creator ;  and  opening  the  door  to  pride,  unbelief,  enmity,  and 
all  wicked  and  abominable  passions.  How  is  the  "  noble  vine," 
which  was  planted  "  wholly  a  right  seed,"  "turned  into  the  degen- 
erate plant  of  a  strange  vine  !" 

Who  can  look  for  pure  water  from  such  a  fountain  ?  "  That 
which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh."  All  the  fliculties  of  the  souv 
are  corrupted  by  sin ;  the  understanding  dark ;  the  will  perverse ; 
the  affections  carnal;  the  conscience  full  of  shame,  remorse,  con- 
fusion, and  mortal  fear.  Man  is  a  hard-hearted  and  stiff-necked 
sinner ;  loving  darkness  rather  than  light,  because  his  deeds  are 
evil;  eating  sin  like  bread,  and  drinking  iniquity  like  water;  hold- 
ing fast  deceit,  and  refusing  to  let  it  go.  His  heart  is  desperately 
wicked ;  full  of  pride,  vanity,  hypocrisy,  covetousness,  hatred  of 
truth,  and  hostility  to  all  that  is  good. 

This  depravity  is  universal.  Among  the  natural  children  of 
Adam,  there  is  no  exemption  from  the  original  taint.  "The  whole 
world  lieth  in  wickedness."  "  We  are  all  as  an  unclean  thing,  and 
all  our  righteousness  is  ns  filthy  rags."  The  corruption  may  vary 
in  the  degrees  of  development,  in  different  persons;  but  the  ele- 
ments are  in  all,  and  their  nature  is  everywhere  the  same  ;  the  same 
in  the  blooming  youth,  and  the  withered  sire ;  in  the  haughty  prince, 
and  the  humble  peasant ;  in  the  strongest  giant,  and  the  feeblest 
invalid.  The  enemy  has  "  come  in  like  a  flood."  The  deluge  of 
sin  has  swept  the  world.  From  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  there  is 
no  health  or  moral  soundness.  From  the  crown  of  the  head  to  the 
soles  of  the  feet,  there  is  nothing  but  wounds,  and  bruises,  and  pu- 
trefying sores.  The  laws,  and  their  violation,  and  the  punishments 
everywhere  invented  for  the  suppression  of  vice,  prove  the  univer- 
sality of  the  evil.  The  bloody  sacrifices,  and  various  purifications, 
of  the  pagans,  show  the  handwriting  of  remorse  upon  their  con- 
scienceF ;  proclaim  their  sense  of  guilt,  and  their  dread  of  punish- 
ment. None  of  them  are  free  from  the  fear  which  hath  torment, 
whatever  their  efforts  to  overcome  it,  and  however  great  their  bold- 
ness in  the  service  of  sin  and  Satan.  "  Mene  !  Tekel !"  is  written 
on  every  human  heart.  "  Wanting !  wanting !"  is  inscribed  on 
heathen  fanes  and  altars ;  on  the  laws,  customs,  and  institutions  of 
every  nation ;  and  on  the  universal  consciousness  of  mankind. 


598  CHRISTMAS    ETANS. 

This  inward  corruption  manifests  itself  in  outward  actions. 
"  The  tree  is  known  by  its  fruit,"  As  the  smoke  and  sparks  of  the 
chimney  show  that  there  is  fire  within;  so  all  the  "filthy  conversa- 
tion" of  men,  and  all  "the  unfruitful  works  of  darkness"  in  which 
they  delight,  evidently  indicate  the  pollution  of  the  source  whence 
they  proceed.  "  Out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speak- 
eth."  The  sinner's  speech  betrayeth  him.  "Evil  speaking"  pro^ 
ceeds  from  malice  and  envy,  "  Foolish  talking  and  jesting,"  are 
evidence  of  impure  and  trifling  thoughts.  The  mouth  full  of  curs- 
ing and  bitterness,  the  throat  an  open  sepulchre,  the  poison  of  asps 
under  the  tongue,  the  feet  swift  to  shed  blood,  destruction  and  mis- 
ery in  their  paths,  and  the  way  of  peace  unknown  to  them,  are  the 
clearest  and  amplest  demonstration  that  men  "have  gone  out  of  the 
way,"  "  have  together  become  unprofitable."  We  see  the  bitter  fruit 
of  the  same  corrupt  ion  in  robbery,  adultery,  gluttony,  drunkenness, 
extortion,  intolerance,  persecution,  apostasy,  and  every  evil  work — 
in  all  false  religions;  the  Jew,  obstinately  adhering  to  the  carnal 
ceremonies  of  an  abrogated  law;  the  Mohammedan,  honoring  an 
impostor,  and  receiving  a  lie  for  a  revelation  from  God  ;  the  Papist, 
worshiping  images  and  relics,  praying  to  departed  saints,  seeking 
absolution  from  sinful  men,  and  trusting  in  the  most  absurd  mum- 
meries for  salvation  ;  the  Pagan^  attributing  divinity  to  the  works 
of  his  own  hands,  adoring  idols  of  wood  and  stone,  sacrificing  to 
malignant  demons,  casting  his  children  into  the  fire  or  the  flood  as 
an  offering  to  imaginary  deities,  and  changing  the  glory  of  the  in- 
corruptible God  into  the  likeness  of  the  beast  and  the  worm. 

"  For  these  things'  sake  the  wrath  of  God  cometh  upon  the  chil- 
dren of  disobedience."  They  are  under  the  sentence  of  the  broken 
law;  the  malediction  of  Eternal  Justice.  "By  the  offense  of  one, 
judgment  came  upon  all  men  unto  condemnation."  "  He  that  be- 
lieveth  not  is  condemned  already,"  "  The  wrath  of  God  abideth  on 
him."  "  Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  writ- 
ten in  the  book  of  the  law,  to  do  them."  "  Wo  unto  the  wicked  ; 
it  shall  be  ill  with  him,  for  the  reward  of  his  hands  shall  be  given 
him."  "They  that  plow  iniquity,  and  sow  wickedness,  shall  reap 
the  same."  ''  Upon  the  wicked  the  Lord  shall  rain  fire,  and  snares, 
and  a  horrible  tempest;  this  shall  be  the  portion  of  their  cup." 
"  God  is  angry  with  the  wicked  every  day  ;  if  He  tarn  not.  He  will 
whet  His  sword  ;  He  hath  bent  His  bow,  and  made  it  ready." 

Who  shall  describe  the  misery  of  fallen  man  !  His  days,  though 
few,  are  full  of  evil.  Trouble  and  sorrow  press  him  forward  to  the 
tomb.     All  the  world,  except  Noah  and  his  family,  are  drowning  in 


THE  FALL  AND  EECOYERT  OF  MAN,        699 

the  deluge,  A  storm  of  fire  and  brimstone  is  fallen  from  heaven 
upon  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  The  earth  is  opening  her  mouth  to 
swallow  up  alive  Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram,  Wrath  is  coming 
upon  "the  Beloved  City,"  even  "wrath  unto  the  uttermost,"  The 
tender  and  delicate  mother  is  devouring  her  darling  infant.  The 
sword  of  men  is  executing  the  vengeance  of  God,  The  earth  is 
emptying  its  inhabitants  into  the  bottomless  pit.  On  every  hand 
are  "confused  noises,  and  garments  rolled  in  blood,"  Fire  and 
sword  fill  the  land  with  consternation  and  dismay.  Amid  the  uni- 
versal devastation,  wild  shrieks  and  despairing  groans  fill  the  air. 
God  of  mercy  !  is  Thy  ear  heavy,  that  Thou  canst  not  hear  ?  or  Thy 
arm  shortened,  that  Thou  canst  not  save  ?  The  heavens  above  are 
brass,  and  the  earth  beneath  is  iron  ;  for  Jehovah  is  pouring  His  in- 
dignation upon  His  adversaries,  and  He  will  not  pity  or  spare. 

Yerily,  "the  misery  of  man  is  great  upon  him!"  Behold  the 
wretched  fallen  creature !  The  pestilence  pursues  him.  The  lep- 
rosy cleaves  to  him.  Consumption  is  wasting  him.  Inflammation 
is  devouring  his  vitals.  Burning  fever  has  seized  upon  the  very 
springs  of  life.  The  destroying  angel  has  overtaken  the  sinner  in 
his  sins.  The  hand  of  God  is  upon  him.  The  fires  of  wrath  are 
kindling  about  him,  drying  up  every  well  of  comfort,  and  scorching 
all  his  hopes  to  ashes.  Conscience  is  chastising  him  with  scorpions. 
See  how  he  writhes  !  Hear  how  he  shrieks  for  help  !  Mark  what 
agony  and  terror  are  in  his  soul,  and  on  his  brow  !  Death  stares 
him  in  the  face,  and  shakes  at  him  his  iron  spear.  He  trembles,  he 
turns  pale,  as  a  culprit  at  the  bar,  as  a  convict  on  the  scaffold.  He 
is  condemned  already.  Conscience  has  pronounced  the  sentence. 
Anguish  has  taken  hold  upon  him.  Terrors  gather  in  battle  array 
about  him.  He  looks  back,  and  the  storms  of  Sinai  pursue  him ; 
forward,  and  hell  is  moved  to  meet  him  ;  above,  and  the  heavens 
are  on  fire  ;  beneath,  and  the  world  is  burning.  He  listens,  and  the 
judgment  trump  is  calling ;  again,  and  the  brazen  chariots  of  ven- 
geance are  thundeiing  from  afar  ;  yet  again,  and  the  sentence  pene- 
trates his  soul  with  anguish  unspeakable — "Depart!  ye  accursed ! 
into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels  !" 

Thus,  "by  one  man,  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by 
sin ;  and  so  death  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that  all  have  sinned." 
Tliey  are  "  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins  ;"  spiritually  dead,  and  legally 
dead  ;  dead  by  the  mortal  power  of  sin,  and  dead  by  the  condemna- 
tory sentence  of  the  law ;  and  helpless  as  sheep  to  the  slaughter, 
they  are  driven  fiercely  on  by  the  ministers  of  wrath  to  the  all- 
devouring  grave,  and  the  lake  of  fire ! 


600  CHRISTMAS    EVANS. 

But  is  tliere  no  mercy  ?  Is  there  no  means  of  salvation  ?  Hark ! 
amidst  all  this  prelude  of  wrath  and  ruin,  comes  a  still  small  voice, 
saying  :  "  much  more  the  grace  of  Grod,  and  the  gift  by  grace,  which 
is  by  one  man,  Jesus  Christ,  hath  abounded  unto  many." 

II.  This  brings  us  to  our  second  topic,  man's  gracious  recovery 
to  the  favor  of  his  offended  God. 

I  know  not  how  to  represent  to  you  this  glorious  work,  better 
than  by  the  following  figure.  Suppose  a  vast  graveyard,  surrounded 
by  a  lofty  wall,  with  only  one  entrance,  which  is  by  a  massive  iron 
gate,  and  that  is  fast  bolted.  Within  are  thousands  and  millions  of 
human  beings,  of  all  ages  and  classes,  by  one  epidemic  disease  bend- 
ing to  the  grave.  The  graves  yawn  to  swallow  them,  and  they  must 
all  perish.  There  is  no  balm  to  relieve,  no  physician  there.  Such 
is  the  condition  of  man  as  a  sinner.  All  have  sinned;  and  it  is 
written,  "  The  soul  that  sinneth  shall  die."  But  while  the  unhappy 
race  lay  in  that  dismal  prison,  Mercy  came  and  stood  at  the  gate, 
and  wept  over  the  melancholy  scene,  exclaiming — "  0  that  I  might 
enter!  I  would  bind  up  their  wounds;  I  would  relieve  their  sor- 
rows; I  would  save  their  souls!"  An  embassy  of  angels,  commis- 
sioned from  the  court  of  heaven  to  some  other  world,  paused  at  the 
sight,  and  heaven  forgave  that  pause.  Seeing  Mercy  standing  there, 
they  cried: — "  Mercy  !  canst  thou  not  enter  ?  Canst  thou  look  upon 
that  scene  and  not  pity  ?  Canst  thou  pity,  and  not  relieve?"  Mercy 
replied  :  "I  can  see  !"  and  in  her  tears  she  added,  "I  can  pity,  but 
lean  not  relieve!"  "Why  canst  thou  not  enter?"  inquired  the 
heavenly  host.  "Oh!"  said  Mercy,  "Justice  has  barred  the  gate 
against  me,  and  I  must  not — can  not  unbar  it !"  At  this  moment, 
Justice  appeared,  as  if  to  watch  the  gate.  The  angels  asked,  "Why 
wilt  thou  not  suffer  Mercy  to  enter?"  He  sternly  replied  :  "  The  law 
is  broken,  and  it  must  be  honored !  Die  they  or  Justice  must !" 
Then  appeared  a  form  among  the  angelic  band  like  unto  the  Son  of 
God.  Addressing  Himself  to  Justice,  He  said  :  "  What  are  thy  de- 
mands?" Justice  replied:  "My  demands  are  rigid;  I  must  have 
ignominy  for  their  honor,  sickness  for  their  health,  death  for  their 
life.  Without  the  shedding  of  blood  there  is  no  remission  !"  "Jus- 
tice," said  the  Son  of  God,  "I  accept  thy  terms!  On  Me  be  this 
wrong !  Let  Mercy  enter,  and  stay  the  carnival  of  death !"  "  What 
pledge  dost  Thou  give  for  the  performance  of  these  conditions  ?" 
" My  word;  My  oath  !"  "  When  wilt  Thou  perform  them  ?"  "  Four 
thousand  years  hence,  on  the  hill  oi'  Calvary,  without  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem!"  The  bond  was  prepared,  and  signed  and  sealed  in  the 
presence  of  attendant  angels.     Jus:i^je  was  satisfied,  the  gate  was 


THE    FALL    AND    RECOVERY    OF    MAN.  601 

opened,  and  Mercy  entered,  preacliing  salvation  in  tlie  name  of  Je- 
sus. The  bond  was  committed  to  patriarchs  and  prophets.  A  long 
series  of  rites  and  ceremonies,  sacrifices  and  oblations,  was  instituted 
to  perpetuate  the  memorj^  of  that  solemn  deed.  At  the  close  of  the 
four  thousandth  year,  when  Daniel's  "seventy  weeks"  were  accom- 
plished, Justice  and  Mercy  appeared  on  the  hill  of  Calvary.  "  Where," 
said  Justice,  "is  the  Son  of  God  ?"  "Behold  Him,"  answered 
Mercy,  "at  the  foot  of  the  hill !"  And  there  He  came,  bearing  His 
own  cross,  and  followed  by  His  weeping  church.  Mercy  retired, 
and  stood  aloof  from  the  scene.  Jesus  ascended  the  hill,  like  a  lamb 
for  the  sacrifice.  Justice  presented  the  dreadful  bond,  saying,  "  This 
is  the  day  on  which  this  article  must  be  cancelled."  The  Redeemer 
took  it.  What  did  He  do  with  it  ?  Tear  it  in  pieces,  and  scatter  it 
to  the  winds?  No!  He  nailed  it  to  His  cross,  crjing,  "It  is  fin- 
ished !"  The  Victim  ascended  the  altar.  Justice  called  on  holy  fire 
to  come  down  and  consume  the  sacrifice.  Holy  fire  replied:  "I 
come !  I  will  consume  the  sacrifice,  and  then  I  will  burn  up  the 
world !"  It  fell  upon  the  Son  of  God,  and  rapidlj^  consumed  His 
humanity ;  but  when  it  touched  His  Deity,  it  expired.  Then  was 
there  darkness  over  the  whole  laud,  and  an  earthquake  shook  the 
mountain  ;  but  the  heavenly  host  broke  forth  in  rapturous  song — 
"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest !  on  eartk  peace !  good  will  to 
man!" 

Thus  grace  has  abounded,  and  the  free  gift  has  come  upon  all,  and 
the  Gospel  has  gone  forth  proclaiming  redemption  to  every  creature. 
"  By  grace  ye  are  saved,  through  faith  ;  and  that  not  of  yourselves ; 
it  is  the  gift  of  God ;  not  of  works,  lest  any  man  should  boast." 
By  grace  ye  are  loved,  redeemed,  and  justified.  By  grace  ye  are 
called,  converted,  reconciled  and  sanctified.  Salvation  is  wholly  of 
grace.     The  plan,  the  process,  the  consummation  are  all  of  grace. 

"  Grace  all  the  work  shall  crown, 
Through  everlasting  days ; 
It  lays  in  heaven  the  topmost  stone, 
And  well  deserves  the  praise!" 

"Where  sin  abounded,  grace  hath  much  more  abounded." 
"  Through  the  offense  of  one,  many  were  dead."  And  as  men  multi- 
plied, the  offense  abounded.  The  waters  deluged  the  woi^d,  but 
could  not  wash  away  the  dreadful  stain.  The  fire  fell  from  heaven, 
but  could  not  burn  out  the  accureed  plague.  The  earth  opened  her 
mouth,  but  could  not  swallow  up  the  monster  sin.  The  law  thun- 
dered forth  its  threat  from  the  thick  darkness  on  Sinai ;  but  could 


602  CHRISTMAS    EVANS. 

not  restrain,  by  all  its  terrors,  the  cliildren  of  disobedience.  Still  the 
offense  abounded,  and  multiplied  as  the  sands  on  the  sea-shore.  It 
waxed  bold,  and  pitched  its  tents  on  Calvary,  and  nailed  the  Law- 
giver to  a  tree.  But  in  that  conflict  sin  received  its  mortal  wound. 
The  Victim  was  the  Victor.  He  fell,  but  in  his  fall  He  crushed  the 
foe.  He  died  unto  sin,  but  sin  and  death  were  crucified  upon  His 
cross.  "Where  sin  abounded  to  condemn,  grace  hath  much  more 
abounded  to  justify.  Where  sin  abounded  to  corrupt,  grace  hath 
much  more  abounded  to  purify.  Where  sin  abounded  to  harden, 
grace  hath  much  more  abounded  to  soften  and  subdue.  Where  sin 
abounded  to  imprison  men,  grace  hath  much  more  abounded  to  j^ro- 
claim  liberty  to  the  captives.  Where  sin  abounded  to  break  the 
law  and  dishonor  the  Lawgiver,  grace  hath  much  more  abounded  to 
repair  the  breach  and  efface  the  stain.  Where  sin  abounded  to  con- 
sume the  soul  as  with  unquenchable  fire  and  a  gnawing  worm,  grace 
hath  much  more  abounded  to  extinguish  the  flame  and  heal  the 
wound.  Grace  hath  abounded !  It  hath  established  its  throne  on 
the  merit  of  the  Redeemer's  sufferings.  It  hath  j^ut  on  the  crown, 
and  laid  hold  of  the  golden  scepter,  and  spoiled  the  dominion  of  the 
prince  of  darkness,  and  the  gates  of  the  great  cemetery  are  thrown 
open,  and  there  is  the  beating  of  a  new  life-pulse  throughout  its 
wretched  population,  and  Immortality  is  walking  among  the 
tombs ! 

This  abounding  grace  is  manifested  in  the  gift  of  Jesus  Christ,  by 
whose  mediation  our  reconciliation  and  salvation  are  eifected.  With 
Him,  believers  are  dead  unto  sin,  and  alive  unto  God.  Our  sins 
were  slain  at  His  cross,  and  buried  in  His  tomb.  His  resurrection 
hath  opened  our  graves,  and  given  us  an  assurance  of  immortality. 
"  God  commendeth  His  love  toward  us,  in  that,  while  we  were  yet 
sinners,  Christ  died  for  ns  ;  much  more,  then,  being  now  justified  by 
His  blood,  we  shall  be  saved  from  wrath  through  Him ;  for  if,  when 
we  were  enemies,  we  were  reconciled  to  God  by  the  death  of  His 
Son,  much  more,  being  reconciled,  we  shall  be  saved  b}''  His  life." 

"  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God ;  it  is  not  subject  to  the 
law  of  God,  neither  indeed  can  be."  Glory  to  God,  for  the  death 
of  His  Son,  by  which  this  enmity  is  slain,  and  reconciliation  is  ef- 
fected between  the  rebel  and  the  law  !  This  was  the  unspeakable  gift 
that  saved  us  from  ruin  ;  that  wrestled  with  the  storm,  and  turned  it 
away  from  the  devoted  head  of  the  sinner.  Had  all  the  angels  of 
God  attempted  to  stand  between  these  two  conflicting  seas,  they 
would  have  been  swept  to  the  gulf  of  destruction.  "  The  blood  of 
bulls  and  goats,  on  Jewish  altars  slain,"  could  not  take  away  sin, 


THE    FALL    AND    RECOVERY    OF    MAN.  603 

■Could  not  pacify  the  conscience.  But  Christ,  the  gift  of  Divine 
Grace,  "  Paschal  Lamb  by  God  appointed,"  a  "  sacrifice  of  nobler 
name  and  richer  blood  than  they,"  bore  our  sins  and  carried  our  sor- 
rows, and  obtained  for  us  the  boon  of  eternal  redemption.  He  met 
the  fury  of  the  tempest,  and  the  floods  went  over  His  head  ;  but  His 
offering  was  an  offering  of  peace,  calming  the  storms  and  the  waves, 
magnifying  the  law,  glorifying  its  Author,  and  rescuing  its  violator 
from  wrath  and  ruin.  Justice  hath  laid  down  His  sword  at  the  foot 
of  the  cross,  and  amity  is  restored  between  heaven  and  earth. 

Hither,  0  ye  guilty  1  come  and  cast  away  your  weapons  of  rebel- 
lion I  Come  with  your  bad  principles  and  wicked  actions ;  your 
unbelief,  and  enmity^  and  pride  ]  and  throw  them  off  at  the  Redeem- 
er's feet !  God  is  here,  waiting  to  be  gracious.  He  will  receive 
you ;  He  will  cast  all  your  sins  behind  His  back,  into  the  depths  of 
the  sea;  and  they  shall  be  remembered  against  you  no  more  forever. 
By  Heaven's  "  Unspeakable  gift,^  by  Christ's  invaluable  atonement, 
by  the  free  and  infinite  grace  of  the  Father  and  the  Son,  we  persuade 
you,  we  beseech  you,  we  entreat  you,  "  be  ye  reconciled  to  God  !" 

It  is  by  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  within  us,  that  we  obtain  a 
personal  interest  in  the  work  wrought  on  Calvary  for  us.  If  our 
sins  are  cancelled,  they  are  also  crucified.  If  we  are  reconciled  in 
Christ,  we  fight  against  our  God  no  more.  This  is  the  fruit  of  faith. 
■"  With  the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righteousness."  May  the  Lord 
inspire  in  every  one  of  us  that  saving  principle  1 

But  those  who  have  been  restored  to  the  Divine  favor  may  some- 
times be  cast  down  and  dejected.  They  have  passed  through  the 
sea,  and  sung  praises  on  the  shore  of  deliverance  ;  but  there  is  yet 
between  them  and  Canaan  *'  a  waste  howling  wilderness,"  a  long 
and  weary  pilgrimage,  hostile  nations,  fiery  serpents,  scarcity  of 
food,  and  the  river  Jordan.  Fears  within  and  fightings  without, 
they  may  grow  discouraged,  and  yield  to  temptation  and  murmur 
against  God,  and  desire  to  return  to  Egypt.  But  fear  not,  thou 
worm  Jacob !  Reconciled  by  the  death  of  Christ ;  much  more, 
being  reconciled,  thou  shalt  be  saved  by  His  life.  His  death  was 
the  price  of  our  redemption  ;  His  life  insures  liberty  to  the  believer. 
If  by  His  death  He  brought  you  through  the  Red  Sea  in  the  night, 
by  His  life  He  can  lead  you  through  the  river  Jordan  in  the  day.  If 
by  His  death  He  delivered  you  from  the  iron  furnace  in  Egypt,  by 
His  life  He  can  save  you  from  all  the  perils  of  the  wilderness.  If 
by  His  death  he  conquered  Pharaoh,  the  chief  foe,  by  His  life  He 
can  subdue  Sihon,  king  of  the  Amorites,  and  Og,  the  king  of 
Bashan.     "  We  shall  be  saved  by  His  life."     "  Because  He  liveth. 


604  CHRISTMAS    EVANS. 

we  shall  live  also."  "  Be  of  good  cheer !"  The  work  is  finished ; 
the  ransom  is  effected ;  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  opened  to  all 
believers.  "Lift  up  your  heads  and  rejoice,"  "ye  prisoners  of 
hope !"  There  is  no  debt  unpaid,  no  devil  unconquered,  no  enemy 
within  your  own  hearts  that  has  not  received  a  mortal  wound! 
"  Thanks  be  unto  God,  who  giveth  us  the  victory,  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ !" 


DISCOURSE    EIGHTY.THIRD. 

JOHN    ELIAS. 

Elias  was  born  in  1774,  in  tlie  parish  of  Aberch,  county  of  Caernar- 
von, and  was  awakened  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  under  a  sermon  by  the 
celebrated  Rowlands.  He  was  mtroduced  into  the  ministry  of  the  Cal- 
■sinistic  Methodist  church  in  1794,  and  began  to  itinerate  and  declare 
the  tidmgs  of  salvation  with  great  acceptance.  Some  years  after  this 
he  became  resident  minister  at  Anglesea,  where  his  labors  were  attended 
with  the  most  marked  results,  in  the  moral  elevation  of  the  people.  His 
fame  as  a  preacher  went  througliout  all  Wales,  and  wherever  he  ap- 
peared, multitudes  flocked  to  hear  the  word  from  his  lips.  His  health, 
however,  had  been  seriously  impaired  by  repeated  attacks  of  disease, 
and  at  length  he  departed  this  life  on  the  8th  of  June,  1841. 

Elias's  chief  characteristics  Avere  a  clear  and  masculine  understand- 
ing, great  tenderness  of  feeling,  a  discriminating  judgment,  strong  reason- 
ing faculties,  and  a  spirit  of  genuine,  unpretending  piety.  For  compass 
and  vigor  of  language,  in  his  preaching,  he  is  said  to  have  been  almost 
unrivaled.  As  a  puljiit  orator  he  has  been  placed  along  side  of  Evans 
and  Whitfield;  but  his  sermons  do  not  discover  the  creative  genius 
and  force  of  conception  seen  in  those  of  Evans.  His  power  consisted 
more  in  his  oratory  and  in  his  electric  energy.  The  discourses  of  Elias, 
however,  possess  very  great  merit,  aboundmg  in  good,  soUd  instructions, 
bearing  the  traces  of  a  vivid  and  chastened  imagination,  and  contaming 
passages  of  rich  and  simple  eloquence. 

The  following  sermon,  translated  from  the  Welsh,  at  our  request,  is 
said  to  be  an  excellent  portraiture  of  Elias  as  a  preacher.  It  was  taken 
down  in  short  hand  at  the  time  of  its  delivery  before  an  Association  or 
Synod  of  the  Calvmistic  or  Whitfield  Methodists,  held  at  Holyhead, 
Angles-ea,  in  the  year  1837. 


THE   TWO   FAMILIES. 


"  And  we  know  that  we  are  of  God,  and  the  whole  world  lieth  in  wickedness." — 
1  John,  v.  19. 

There  are  two  prominent  deficiencies  in  the  character  of  Chris- 
tians in  the  present  age.     One  is,  a  deficiency  of  knowledge   that 


606  JOHN    ELIAS. 

they  are  "of  God,"  combined  witli  a  want  of  mental  distress,  and 
vehement  desire,  for  the  attainment  of  such  knowledge.  The  other 
is,  a  want  of  compassionate  and  agonizing  reflections  npon  the  de- 
plorable and  pitiable  state  of  the  "  world."  If  you  shonld  visit  the 
Christian  churches  of  our  day,  and  institute  a  strict  and  impartial 
investigation  into  the  nature  of  their  experiences,  you  would  soon 
discover  the  predominancy  of  these  lamentable  defects. 

A  sure  knowledge  that  they  are  of  God,  is  attainable  to  those 
individuals  who  are  of  God.  Godly  men  may  acquire,  by  un- 
doubted evidences,  feehngs  of  certainty  respecting  their  state  of 
godliness.  I  do  not  assert,  that  every  pious  man  knows  that  he  is 
in  possession  of  piety ;  but  what  I  maintain  and  affirm  is,  that  such 
knowledge  is  attainable  by  Christians,  because  it  has  been  promised 
by  God.  Whatever  is  involved  in  the  promises  of  God  to  His  peo- 
ple, is  certainly  attainable  by  them.  The  Divine  promises  are  like 
so  many  good  bills,  payable  to  the  believer,  on  his  application,  at  the 
office  of  Free  Grace.  Some  Christians  are  destitute  of  assurance, 
because  of  their  infancy  in  religion.  Others  are  kept  in  ignorance 
of  their  acceptance  with  God  through  their  own  negligence,  their 
proneness  to  spiritual  declension,  and  their  tendency  to  grieve  the 
Holy  Spirit.  Now,  inasmuch  as  an  assurance  of  our  spiritual  birth 
of  God  is  attainable,  Christians  ought  not  to  rest  short  of  it.  It  is, 
indeedj  an  awfully  serious  thing,  that  any  man  should  make  a  public 
profession  of  religion  for  years,  without  knowing  in  the  world, 
whither  his  pilgrimage  will  end.  One  of  the  principal  pillars  of 
the  Romish  church  is,  their  belief  in  the  impossibility  of  arriving  at 
a  certainty  respecting  our  real  state  before  God,  in  this  world,  and 
destined  condition  in  the  world  to  come.  The  merchandise  in  the 
pardon  of  sins,  the  doctrine  of  purgatory,  and  prayers  for  the  dead, 
etc.,  are  founded  upon  this  glaring  error.  It  is  lamentable  to  think, 
that  Protestants  should  bear  an  assimilation  to  Papists,  even  in  this 
respect.  I  am  really  afraid  that  an  erroneous  notion  prevails  among 
Christians  touching  the  non-importance  of  knowing  the  reality  of 
their  second  birth,  and  that  they  have  only  to  hope  it  has  been 
effected.  Should  you  solemnly  appeal  to  some  professing  Christians, 
inferring  your  doubts  concerning  the  sincerity  of  their  piety  ;  point- 
ing out  at  the  same  time  to  them,  this  and  the  other  symptom,  which 
give  rise  to  your  fears,  they  would  probably  reply  to  you,  and  say, 
"  How  do  you  know  ?"  Well,  O  man,  dost  thou  know  them  ?  If 
thou,  thyself,  art  destitute  of  knowledge  in  this  respect,  how  canst 
thou  find  fault  with  them  who  entertain  doubts  and  fears  as  to  thy 
real  state  ?     0  Christian  professor !  I  am  afraid  that  eternal  misery 


THE    TWO    FAMILIES.  607 

will  be  your  liome  and  portion.  Methinks  to  hear  you  say,  How 
do  you  know  ?  Well,  dost  thou  know  them  ?  If  thou  thyself  art 
ignorant  of  thine  everlasting  destiny,  how  canst  thou  blame  me,  for 
expressing  my  fears  regarding  it.  Thousands  run  the  risk  with  the 
all-important  and  all-absorbing  concern  of  their  soul's  salvation. 
One  man,  the  other  day,  on  his  entrance  into  eternity,  said,  I  have 
only  to  venture  upon  chance.  God  has  never  designed  that  His 
people  should  be  in  such  a  doubtful  state  of  mind.  He  has  pro- 
vided strong  consolation  for  them,  and  He  has  appointed  the  means 
whereby  they  may  acquire  a  full  enjoyment  of  them.  It  is  mortify- 
ing to  the  feelings  of  eminent  Christian  men,  to  behold  a  numerous 
church,  with  only  a  handful  of  its  members  capable  of  discerning 
that  they  are  "of  God,"  while  the  great  majority  appear  to  be  en- 
tirely insensible  to  the  vast  importance  of  obtaining  such  an  assur- 
ance. 

And,  besides,  there  is  a  great  amount  of  dormancy,  carelessness, 
and  inconsideration  among  professed  Christians,  with  respect  to  the 
miserable  state  of  the  "  whole  world."  Very  few,  indeed,  compara- 
tively speaking,  feel  deeply  and  compassionately  for  the  deplora- 
ble condition  of  mankind  in  general.  We  mourn  a  little  over  the  im- 
piety, wickedness,  and  misery  of  the  few ;  but  insignificant,  indeed, 
is  our  mental  distress  in  reference  to  the  deep  depravity,  delusion, 
idolatry,  and  wretchdness  of  the  many,  or  the  universal  condition  of 
the  world. 

Far,  indeed,  am  I  from  ado^^ting  the  opinion  of  some,  who  say, 
"  that  outward  reformation  is  of  no  value  whatever ;  nothing,"  they 
say,  "  short  of  internal  piety  is  worth  a  straw.  Vain  are  all  the  ef- 
forts to  ameliorate  the  morals  of  mankind.  All  will  be  of  no  avail 
whatever,  unless  we  can  change  their  hearts."  Such  an  idea  is  far 
from  being  correct.  It  devolves  upon  Christians  to  put  forth  every 
exertion  within  their  power,  to  reform  the  outward  conduct  of  men. 
Even  external  amendment  of  life  will  be  productive  of  some  degree 
of  happiness  to  the  man  himself,  and  of  some  measure  of  honor  to 
his  Maker. 

Nevertheless,  we  ought  not  to  rest  here,  without  solemnly  reflect- 
ing upon  the  lost  condition  of  the  human  family — mourning  deeply 
over  it — praying  fervently,  and  employing  our  wealth  and  talents 
for  its  conversion.  The  outward  morals  of  that  man  there,  are  cer- 
tainly very  plausible  ;  but  still,  we  can  discover  symptoms  upon  him 
of  his  destitution  of  acceptance  with  God.  That  woman,  that  young 
girl,  are  truly  commendable  in  many  things ;  and  yet  we  can  dis- 
cern marks  upon  their  character  of  their  exposure  to  the  wrath  that 


608  JOHN    ELIAS. 

is  to  come.  How  is  it,  tliere  is  not  a  deeper  feeling  of  commiseration 
and  sympathy  on  tlieir  behalf?  Why,  none  but  those  who  are  "  of 
God"  can  really  know  and  feel  for  the  state  of  the  ungodly  world. 
The  words  of  our  text  may  be  read  thus,  "  We  know  that  we  are  of 
God  ;  and  we  know  that  the  whole  world  lietli  in  wickedness."  The 
world  itself  is  ignorant  of  the  awfulness  and  misery  of  its  condition. 
Hypocrites  in  the  church  are  also  in  darkness  concerning  it.  Those 
who  are  "  of  God"  alone  have  seen  and  felt  what  the  lost  condition 
of  the  world  is. 

The  inspired  apostle  writes  the  words  before  us  in  the  name  of  his 
Christian  brethren,  as  well  as  that  of  himself.     "  We  know,"  etc. 

In  this  passage  mankind  are  divided  into  two  different  classes : 
some  who  are  "of  God,"  and  "the  whole  world."  The  distinction 
which  he  makes  will  stand  immovably ;  and  it  is  of  the  highest 
consequence.  Some  distinctions  are  of  very  little  importance.  It 
would  not  be  of  much  moment  if  I  should  say,  "  I  am  a  Calvinistic 
Methodist  or  a  Presbyterian ;  that  man  is  a  Wesleyan,  while  the 
other  is  an  Independent  or  Baptist,  etc."  Oar  sectarian  distinctions 
will,  one  day,  be  buried  in  eternal  oblivion.  There  is  too  great  a 
tendenc}^,  in  the  various  sections  of  the  Christian  church  just  now, 
to  condemn  and  censure  one  another.  One  lays  great  stress  on  his 
communion ;  another  attaches  vast  importance  to  his  immersion, 
while  nearly  all  religious  men  are  prejudiced  in  favor  of  the  minor 
peculiarities  of  their  own  sect  and  persuasion.  But  the  apostle 
and  his  brethren  apprehended  no  interest  so  vastly  important  as 
the  sentiments  of  the  text,  "  We  know  that  we  are  of  God,  and  the 
whole  world  lieth  in  wickedness." 

The  text  naturally  divides  itself  into  two  subjects : — 

I.  The  happy  and  exalted  state  of  believers ;  they  are  "  of  God" 
— and  some  of  them  "  know"  it. 

II.  The  wretched  and  deplorable  condition  of  all  others.  "■  The 
whole  world  lieth  in  wickedness."  By  "the  whole  world"  is  evi- 
dently meant,  all  who  are  not  "  of  God." 

All  the  inhabitants  of  the  world  are  comprised  within  the  com- 
pass of  the  text ;  and  the  distinction  made  therein  reaches  them  all. 

But  let  us  notice, 

I.  The  happy,  exalted  state  of  the  believers:  "We  know  that 
we  are  of  God."  Here  let  us  inquire,  1.  What  is  meant  by  being 
"  of  God."  The  verse  preceding  the  text  elucidates  the  expression. 
There  the  godly  man  is  denominated  "  He  that  is  born  of  God." 
Thus  to  be  "  of  God"  means  to  be  born  of  Him. 

Now,  my  dear  hearers,  do  you  bear  in  mind  that  regeneration  is 


THE    TWO    FAMILIES.  gQQ 

as  absolutely  necessary  in  our  days,  as  it  was  wlien  our  Lord  was 
conversing  with  Nicodemus  ?  Do  you  seriously  consider  that  a 
second  birth  is  as  indispensable  this  year  as  it  was  some  fifty  years 
ago,  when  none  should  be  admitted  into  church  fellowship  without 
hopeful  and  noted  signs  of  their  having  been  regenerated.  Eegen- 
eration  is  as  necessary  and  important  now  as  it  ever  was.  "  Except 
a  man  be  born  again,  he  can  not  see  the  kingdom  of  God,"  this  year 
as  well  as  any  previous  year ;  and  he  can  never  enter  into  it.  To 
be  born  of  God  is  essential  to  the  possession  of  true  religion.  Inde- 
pendent of  it  there  can  be  no  genuine  piety.  "Would  to  God  that  a 
general  feeling  of  self-examination  should  pervade  the  vast  assemblage 
before  me,  "  Are  we  born  again  ?"  You  need  not  inquire  so  much  con- 
cerning the  mode,  the  time,  and  the  place  in  which  the  change  was  ef- 
fected, as  to  the  character  of  the  effects  produced.  You  may  deceive 
yourselves  in  looking  for  evidences  in  the  circumstances  of  the  change. 
But  you  should  examine  yourselves,  whether  you  have  realized  the 
benefits  accruing  therefrom.  Search  your  hearts  and  conduct  minutely 
and  impartially,  whether  you  can  discern  symptoms  of  a  thorough 
change  in  your  principles,  dispositions,  and  motives,  divinely  wrought 
by  the  life-giving  influences  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  Eemember,  it  is 
a  birth  of  God ;  God  is  the  great  author  of  it.  He  has  implanted 
something  of  a  spiritual  and  heavenly  nature  within  all  regenerate 
persons :  "  For  his  seed  remaineth  in  him."  He  has  communicated 
living  water  into  their  hearts,  which  shall  abide  in  them,  "  a  well  of 
water,  sj^ringing  up  into  everlasting  life."  There  is  a  holy  principle 
existing  in  the  regenerate  of  which  all  others  are  utterly  destitute. 
They  are  influenced  by  a  spirit  to  which  "  the  whole  world"  besides 
are  perfect  strangers.     "  That  which  is  born  of  the  Spirit  is  spirit." 

Again,  to  be  "  of  God,"  imports  to  be  on  God's  side — to  be  a 
member  of  His  family — to  be  a  soldier  in  His  army,  fighting  the  bat- 
tles of  the  Lord — to  be  a  workman  in  His  vineyard,  carrying  on  His 
work  on  earth,  and  aiming  at  His  glory  in  the  performance  of  every 
social,  relative,  and  Christian  duty. 

Furthermore,  all  the  excellencies  of  the  Christian  are  to  be  en- 
tirely attributed  to  His  being  "  of  God."  Whatever  superiority 
pertains  to  a  godly  man,  it  is  wholly  ascribable  to  his  God.  None 
of  the  glory  is  due  to  himself.  All  the  praise  must  be  returned  to 
God.  "Who  maketh  thee  to  differ  from  another?  And  what  hast 
thou,  that  thou  didst  not  receive?  Now,  if  thou  didst  receive  it," 
glorying,  on  thy  part,  is  altogether  excluded.  "  We  are  of  God," 
says  the  Apostle  John :  and  to  this  accords  the  testimony  of  the 
great  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  "  But  of  Him  are  ye  in  Christ  Jesus, 

39 


610  JOHN    ELIAS. 

wlio  of  God  is  made  unto  us  wisdom,  and  righteousness,  and  sanctifi- 
cation,  and  redemption:  that  according  as  it  is  written,  He  that 
glorieth,  let  him  glory  in  the  Lord."  The  four  different  blessings 
mentioned  bj  the  Apostle,  fully  constitute  the  essence  of  vital  relig- 
ion ;  they  involve  in  their  own  nature,  all  that  sinful  man  needs  in 
time  and  eternity;  and  the  godly  man  receives  them  "of  God;" 
Wisdom  to  us,  who  are  foolish ;  righteousness  to  us,  who  are  guilty ; 
sanctification  to  us,  who  are  polluted ;  and  redemption  to  us,  who 
have  been  "  sold  under  sin."  It  is  utterly  impossible  to  imagine  of 
any  good,  which  is  not  embodied  in  these  things.  Of  whom  does 
the  believer  receive  them  ?  Of  God.  We  must  divest  ourselves  of 
all  merit,  and  give  all  the  glory  to  the  God  of  our  salvation. 

There  is  no  monster  so  deformed  on  earth,  as  the  man  who  pro- 
fesses to  be  a  godly  man,  and  who  still  is  a  proud  and  arrogant  man. 
Such  a  character  somewhat  resembles  the  image  of  Dagon,  which 
was  composed  partly  of  a  fish,  and  partly  of  a  serpent.  The  man 
who  pretends  to  be  a  godly  man,  ought  to  be  the  most  humble  and 
condescending  man.  And,  indeed,  the  truly  godly  man,  is  really 
the  most  humble.  The  declaration  in  the  text,  brings  him  to  the 
dust,  "  We  are  of  God."  Believers,  enumerate  all  your  exalted 
privileges;  revive  them,  and  recollect  that  they  are  all  of  God. 
"  Not  unto  us  ;  not  unto  us ;  but  to  Thy  great  name  be  the  glory." 

2.  Some  believers  "  know"  that  they  are  of  God.  These  can 
adopt  the  language  of  the  apostle,  and  say,  "We  know  that  we  are 
of  God."  I  hope  you  have  taken  special  notice  of  what  I  have  al- 
ready said.  I  do  not  say,  that  all  .who  are  regenerated,  know  it  to  a 
certainty :  but  they  may  know,  and  they  ought  to  labor  diligently 
and  perseveringly  for  the  attainment  of  such  knowledge.  Some 
have  acquired  it,  "  We  know  that  we  are  of  God,"  It  is  attainable : 
(1.)  By  consulting  watchfully  the  testimony  of  conscience,  or  our  own 
spirit.  "  If  our  heart  condemn  us,"  ^.  e.,  if  we  are  arraigned  at  the 
bar  of  conscience,  as  being  guilty  of  indulging  and  delighting  in 
sin,  "  God  is  greater  than  our  heart,  aud  knoweth  all  things." 
"  Beloved  if  our  heart  condemn  us  not,"  or  if  our  conscience  testifies 
that  we  are  free  from  the  love  of  sin,  "  then  have  we  confidence  to- 
ward God."  "  The  Spirit  itself  beareth  witness  with  our  spirit,  that 
we  are  the  children  of  God  "  Our  own  Spirit  testifies  in  conjunction 
with  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  that  we  are  born  of  God.  Moreover, 
the  enemies  of  the  Christian  are  so  cruel,  and  so  subtle ;  "  the  ac- 
cuser of  the  brethren"  is  so  cunningly  malicious,  that  they  give  in 
their  evidence  against  us  ;  and  through  their  overbearing  insolence, 
the  spirit  of  the  feeble  Christian  is  frequently  silenced.     But  "the 


THE    TWO    FAMILIES.  611 

Spirit  itself,"  who  is  an  irresistible  witness,  comes  forth,  testifying  by 
undeniable  evidences,  and  in  sweet  accents,  that  he  is  a  child  of  God. 
His  testimony  prevails,  and  all  the  accusers  are  put  to  flight. 

(2.)  The  genuine  Christian  may  " know"  that  he  is  "of  God,"  by 
carefully  observing  the  fruits  which  he  bears.  The  Christian  may, 
by  a  solicitous  investigation,  discover  principles  in  his  heart  and 
fruits  in  his  life,  which  could  not  have  emanated  from  any  other 
source  than  of  God.  He  may  discern  his  love  to  God,  and  love  to 
the  brethren.  And  these  fruits  alone,  constitute  a  conclusive  evi- 
dence, that  he  is  of  God.  "  We  know  that  we  have  passed  from 
death  unto  life,  because  we  love  the  brethren."  Now,  mark,  passing 
"  from  death  unto  life"  is  the  cause  ;  and  loving  the  brethren  is  the 
effect  produced  by  that  cause.  Brotherly  love  forms  one  of  the 
operations  of  that  heavenly  life,  wliich  we  received  in  our  transla- 
tion from  death  unto  life.  We  know  that  an  irreconcilable  hatred 
of  sin  exists  in  our  hearts.  Let  men  and  devils  present  it  in  the 
most  plausible  colors  ;  let  them  invest  it  in  the  most  gorgeous  robe  ; 
let  them  place  a  most  embellished  crown  on  its  brow  ;  let  them  put 
in  its  hand  a  most  splendid  scepter,  and  furnish  it  with  a  most  mag- 
nificent throne,  and  thus  give  it  a  most  imposing  appearance,  we 
can  not 'help  loathing  and  abhorring  it  with  perfect  detestation.  We 
know  that  we  ardently  desire  to  walk  as  the  Son  of  God  walked — 
to  copy  His  example  in  all  things.  We  know  that  we  are  hunger- 
ing and  thirsting  to  be  pure,  as  Christ  is  pure.  From  fruits  of  this 
kind,  the  believer  may  know  that  he  is  "  an  heir  of  God,  and  joint 
heir  with  Christ." 

3.  The  true  Christian  may  know  that  he  is  of  God,  from  the 
character  of  his  communion  with  God.  Believers  enjoy  frequent 
communion  with  God,  and  through  its  medium  may  know  that  they 
are  "  of  God."  The  Holy  Spirit,  as  the  spirit  of  adoption,  dwells 
within  them,  "  whereby  they  cry,  Abba,  Father."  They  are  ad- 
mitted into  the  presence  of  their  Father,  as  dear  children.  They 
are  sometimes  capable  of  saying,  "  our  fellowship  is  with  the  Father, 
and  with  His  Son,  Jesus  Christ."  And  whenever  they  are  able  to 
utter  such  language,  they  know  that  they  are  of  God. 

Well,  my  Christian  friends,  how  do  you  feel  in  the  face  of  this 
w^eighty,  and  important  truth  ?  I  should  not  like  to  discourage  the 
feeblest  believer ;  but  I  should  wish  to  rouse  the  minds  of  all  who 
are  of  God,  earnestly  to  seek  an  indisputable  evidence  of  their  inter- 
est in  Him,  that  they  may  redound  more  to  His  glory,  and  enhance 
their  own  comforts.  O !  that  my  God  would  enable  me  to  utter  a 
word,  which  would  terrify  that  dormant  Christian,  without  discour- 


612  JOHN    ELIAS. 

aging  that  feeble  and  trembling  Christian.  Let  me  entreat  of  you 
to  survey  your  state,  in  order  to  find  out  whose  you  are.  The 
Judge  standeth  at  the  door.  My  dear  hearers,  one  thing  I  would 
desire  of  you;  will  you,  before  you  "give  sleep  to  your  eyes,  or 
slumber  to  your  eyelids"  this  evening,  examine  yourselves,  of  whom 
am  I  ?  Sinner :  it  is  useless  for  thee  to  hide  thyself  behind  any 
bush,  imagining  that  no  eye  perceives  thee ;  thou  art  directly  before 
the  face  of  the  heart -searching  God.  Come  to  the  light  that  thy 
deeds  may  be  made  manifest;  be  determined  to  know  of  whom 
thou  art. 

Let  us  proceed  to  consider : 

n.  The  deplorable  and  miserable  condition  of  all  those  who  are 
not  of  God,  "the  whole  world  lieth  in  wickedness." 

Some  are  of  opinion  that  the  term  wickedness,  means  the  wicked 
one  ;  and  others,  the  wicked  thing.  These  are  the  sources  of  all  the 
evil  that  exist  in  the  Divine  government.  We  shall  adopt  both 
views. 

1.  The  whole  world  is  in  the  power  of  the  wicked  one.  The 
learned  Mr.  Leigh,  in  his  "  Critici  /Sacra,^^  renders  the  phrase,  "  And 
the  whole  world  lieth  between  the  jaw  of  the  wicked  one,"  like  a 
lamb  in  the  jaws  of  the  wolf,  or  a  prey  in  the  mouth  of  the  lion, 
borne  by  him  to  his  den.  What  a  painful  and  pitiful  consideration. 
The  wicked  lie  between  the  jaws  of  the  roaring  lion,  carried  by  him 
to  his  infernal  den.  The  Bible  declares  in  the  plainest  terms,  that 
the  whole  world  lies  in  the  power  of  Satan.  When  Saul  of  Tarsus 
was  converted  unto  the  faith  of  the  Gospel,  and  commissioned  to 
preach  the  Gospel  to  sinners,  he  was  emphatically  told  where  he 
should  find  them,  "  From  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God."  Mankind 
by  nature  are  represented  as  being  in  "  the  snare  of  the  devil,  taken 
captive  by  him  at  his  will."  Our  Lord  in  addressing  the  unbeliev- 
ing Jews,  says,  "ye  are  of  your  father,  the  devil,  and  the  lusts  of 
your  father  ye  will  do."  The  devil  is  called  "the  god  of  this 
world ;"  and  sinners  are  described  as  his  subjects,  his  children.  His 
children  are  more  submissive  and  obedient  to  him,  than  the  children 
of  God  are  to  their  heavenly  Father :  nothing  but  evil  exists  in  the 
unregenerate.  Christ,  in  expounding  the  parable  of  the  tares,  de- 
clares that  the  tares  were  "  the  children  of  the  wicked  one."  Evi- 
dently they  were  professors  of  religion ;  they  had  grown  up  among 
the  wheat;  and  they  had  been  sown  "  while  men  slept."  There  are 
children  of  the  wicked  one,  even  in  the  church  of  God ;  they  enter 
in  while  the  servants  are  asleep. 

Thus  men,  by  nature,  lie  in  the  power  of  Satan ;  they  are  under 


THE    TWO    FAMILIES.  613 

his  guidance;  they  uphold  and  further,  obediently  and  faithfully, 
the  interests  of  his  kingdom  in  the  world.  Can  you  be  at  ease,  my 
dear  hearers,  while  listening  to  this  heart-rending  truth?  Whom 
do  you  say,  is  in  the  power  of  the  wicked  one  ?  Is  it  the  immoral 
and  the  profligate  ?  Yes,  and  you  too,  though  you  may  be  decent 
and  moral  in  your  outward  deportment,  if  you  be  unregenerate. 
My  dear  hearers,  can  you  pass  over  this  solemn  and  weighty  truth 
without  being  alarmed?  What  I  have  advanced  are  the  words  of 
God,  and  His  declarations  are  of  the  highest  importance.  You  are 
sure  to  feel  them  as  such.  Fall  prostrate  before  the  throne  of  grace, 
whenever  you  get  an  opportunity,  and  implore  the  Holy  Spirit  of 
God  to  show  you  clearly  whether  you  be  of  God,  or  in  the  power 
of  Satan. 

.The  state  of  the  world,  under  the  dominion,  and  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  wicked  one,  is  most  pitiable.  "0!  that  my  head  were 
waters,  and  mine  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears,  that  I  might  weep  day 
and  night"  over  the  miserable  condition  of  mankind.  Satan, 
whither  dost  thou  take  ungodly  men  ?  Ah  !  he  takes  them  to  the 
dark  and  awful  den  of  hell.  Those  solemn  words  of  our  Lord, 
struck  my  mind  very  forcibly  the  other  day:  "Depart  from  Me,  ye 
cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels." 
Having  served  the  devil  in  your  life,  depart  to  him — enter  his  den 
— let  your  portion  be  in  that  flame  which  was  kindled  for  him- 
Having  labored  diligently  for  him,  go  and  suffer  with  him.  Depart, 
ye  cursed,  to  the  abode  of  the  devil.  Some  of  you  may  feel  at  ease 
now,  though  in  his  power ;  but  how  will  you  feel  in  that  day,  when 
the  great  Judge  of  the  universe  shall  address  you  and  say,  Depart, 
to  suffer  forever,  with  that  master  whom  you  have  been  serving. 

We  observe,  in  the  second  place,  that  the  whole  world  lieth  in 
the  evil  thing ;  in  sin. 

The  expression,  "  lieth  in  wickedness^''''  implies, 

1.  That  unregenerate  persons  lie  in  sin  as  their  natural  element. 
They  are  like  a  fish  in  the  water.  The  immense  weight  which  the 
fish  sustains,  would  prove  fatal  to  us.  But  the  fish  is  in  his  element ; 
it  is  his  delight  to  remain  therein.  Moreover,  he  is  frequently  boiled 
in  the  very  element,  wherein  he  was  wont  to  play  and  swim.  The 
ungodly  man  lies,  and  delights  in  sin  as  his  customary  element. 
Some  he  in  drunkenness  and  intemperance.  Blessed  be  God  !  such 
characters  are  not  so  numerous  in  Wales  just  now,  as  they  have 
been.  A  drunkard  would  be  an  awful  sight  in  these  days  of  total  ab- 
stinence. I  detest  the  appearance  of  a  drunkard  as  much  as  if  the 
devil  should  present  himself  before  me.     Some  sinners  lie  in  adult- 


Q14,  JOHN    ELIAS. 

ery  and  fornication  ;  some  in  injustice  and  dishonesty,  and  others  in 
coveteousness,  and  an  inordinate  love  of  the  world.  Why,  says 
some  one,  godly  men  are  so.  What !  godly  people  coveteous ;  idol- 
aters. No,  no,  the  miser  is  so  ungodly  in  the  sight  of  God,  as  the 
drunkard — so  detestable  as  the  proud — so  loathsome  as  the  adult- 
erer. "  The  whole  world  lieth  in  wickedness."  They  delight  in 
levity,  in  thoughtlessness,  in  unbelief,  in  disobedience,  in  contempt 
of  God  and  His  ways. 

2.  Lying  in  wickedness  implies  to  lie  in  filth  ;  in  the  dunghill; 
in  the  lowest  state  of  uncleanness  and  defilement.  Wicked  men  are 
represented  as  "  wallowing  in  the  mire."  Sinner :  whatever  may  be 
the  character  of  the  sin  in  which  you  indulge,  it  is  more  detestable 
than  the  mii^e  itself;  and  you  are  wallowing  in  it.  O  I  the  humiliat- 
ing state  to  which  man  has  been  reduced  by  the  fall. 

3.  Lying  in  wickedness  imports  to  lie  in  a  loathpome  disease ; 
in  derangement ;  in  prison.  This  is  the  real  condition  of  unconverted 
men.  They  are  subjected  to  the  ravages  of  the  worst  plague  ;  they 
lie  under  the  condemnation  of  death.  They  would  inevitably  die 
through  the  dire  effects  of  the  former,  if  the  latter  had  not  existed. 
God  have  mercy  upon  them !  they  are  likely  to  die  eternally  under 
the  awful  effects  of  both  together.  They  are  laboring  under  the 
most  fatal  disease,  and  at  the  same  time,  incarcerated  in  prison,  con- 
demned to  die  forever.  Thus  you  see  what  lying  in  wickedness 
means. 

I  shall  not  multiply  any  more  words,  respecting  the  misery  of 
the  world ;  but  shall  conclude  this  discourse,  in  making  a  few  re- 
marks by  way  of  application. 

1.  I  would  address  myself  to  the  great  assembly  before  me.  My 
dear  hearers,  what  is  the  character  of  your  position  in  this  respect  ? 
Do  the  majority  of  you  lie  in  wickedness  ?  How  can  you  remain 
so  quietly  and  reposedly  in  such  an  awfully  dangerous  condition  ? 
Ah !  the  people  are  infected  with  a  lethargic  and  morbid  disease. 
They  are  deaf;  they  can  not  hear — blind ;  they  can  not  see — dead ; 
the  tremendous  thunders  of  the  law  do  not  affect  them.     Now, 

2.  I  would  address  myself  to  those  who  are  of  God.  I  feel  a 
desire  to  exclaim  upon  you  :  Do  you  really  and  seriously  reflect  upon 
the  pitiable  state  of  the  world  ?  None  have  ever  been  rescued  from 
their  condition,  more  than  from  hell,  except  you.  The  people  of  the 
world  themselves  are  unconscious  of  their  danger ;  they  are  in  a 
state  of  insensibility.  But  you,  who  are  of  God,  have  painfully  felt 
the  misery  and  obnoxiousness  of  their  condition.  Believer :  dost 
thou  know  anything  about  the  state  of  the  world  ?     Methinks  to 


THE    TWO    FAMILIES.  615 

hear  some  one  say,  0 !  yes,  I  do,  I  have  been  in  that  state ;  but  have 
been  rescued  by  divine  grace.  I  remember  being  in  the  jaws  of  the 
roaring  lion ;  he  would  have  devoured  me,  had  not  my  spiritual 
David  come  to  my  deliverance.  I  recollect  well  the  time  when  I 
was  laboring  nnder  the  same  fatal  disease  ;  and  I  would  have  died, 
through  its  ravages,  had  not  the  great  Physician  of  souls  taken  com- 
passion upon  me. 

Well,  thou  who  art  of  God,  let  me  entreat  thee  to  remember  the 
world  that  still  lieth  in  wickedness.  The  man  who  was  with  Joseph 
in  prison,  and  was  restored  to  liberty  before  him,  is  trul}'-  faulty  in 
forgetting  him,  in  not  praying  with  the  king  for  his  deliverance. 
Yea,  thou  hast,  perhaps,  left  behind  thee  thy  parents,  thy  wife,  thy 
children,  thy  neighbors,  etc. ;  they  are  actually  dying  in  prison.  O  ! 
how  is  it  that  thou  dost  not  feel  more  deeply  and  pray  more  earnestly 
for  them.  Children  of  Zion  :  forget  not  in  your  prayers  the  ungodly 
world.  Frequently  approach  the  King  in  their  behalf.  Always 
thank  Him  warmly  for  your  freedom,  and  implore  Him  fervently  to 
have  mercy  upon  those  who  are  imprisoned.  Cry  out,  Lord,  save 
those  who  are  perishing ;  save  them  speedily ;  according  to  the 
greatness  of  Thy  power,  deliver  the  children  of  death. 

3.  I  would  address  myself  to  those  who  are  dying  in  wicked- 
ness. What  words  to  employ  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know.  0 !  my  God, 
do  Thou  assist  me.     Let  me  divide  you  into  two  different  classes. 

1.  Those  of  you  who  are  utterly  thoughtless,  without  any  con- 
cern at  all  about  your  state  before  God.  Perhaps  you  are  ready  to 
tell  me,  "  Mind  your  own  business  ;  we  are  right  enough."     Hear, 

0  sinner :  there  is  a  solemn  period  before  thee,  when  thy  feelings 
will  be  widely  different  from  what  they  are  now.  Soon  the  opinion 
which  thou  entertainest  of  thyself,  will  undergo  a  thorough  change. 
Thy  trial  before  the  tribunal  of  heaven  is  not  far  distant.  Unless 
thou  art  delivered  from  thine  insensibility  in  this,  thy  day  of  grace, 

1  should  not  at  all  like  to  visit  thy  dying  bed,  lest  thou  be  a  source 
of  terror  to  all  around  thee.  Unfeeling  sinner :  you  will  be  touched 
to  the  quick  shortly.  Thoughtless  sinner  :  listen,  there  is  an  eter- 
nity of  intense  feeling  before  thee — thou  wilt  feel  thy  sins,  and  thy 
misery,  under  the  infliction  of  the  Divine  wrath,  unless  thou  art 
speedily  delivered  by  the  free  grace  of  God. 

2.  Let  me  speak  a  few  words  to  those  of  you  who,  I  hope,  are 
in  some  degree  sensible  of  the  danger  and  misery  of  your  state ; 
and  ready  to  cry  out,  what  must  we  do  ?  We  know  that  we  are 
with  the  world :  we  doubt  not  the  truthfulness  of  the  declaration 
contained  in  your  text,  "  The  whole  world  lieth  in  wickedness :"  and 


616  JOHN    ELIAS. 

we  are  among  them.  What  shall  we  do  ?  Our  case  is  hopeless. 
No,  mj  fellow-sinners,  there  is  hope  yet  for  you.  What  ?  will  not 
the  world  be  condemned  ?  Yes,  the  world  will  be  condemned. 
"  That  ye  may  not  be  condemned  with  the  world,"  says  the  apostle. 
The  world  will  be  damned.  Why,  behold  you  have  given  us  up  to 
die  in  despair.  No,  no,  there  is  hope  still  for  you.  You  ask  me, 
What  is  your  ground  for  saying  so  ?  Why,  is  it  not  out  of  the  world 
that  the  Lord  redeems  sinners.  It  is  out  of  the  world  that  Jesus 
draws  sinners  after  Him.  The  world  is  the  very  quarry  in  which 
God  digs  up  stones  for  the  erection  of  His  heavenly  temple.  This 
is  the  only  forest  in  which  he  obtains  materials  for  beams  and  pil- 
lars in  His  holy  temple.  0 !  myriads  upon  myriads  will  sweetly 
sing  one  day,  "  He  hath  redeemed  us  from  the  evil  world."  Whence 
does  God  save  sinners?  Out  of  the  world.  Whence  did  He 
take  Saul  of  Tarsus  ?  From  the  world.  Where  did  He  find  those 
who  are  now  glorified  in  heaven  ?  In  the  world.  Blessed  be  God ! 
The  Gospel  proclaims  a  deliverance  from  "  this  present  evil  world." 
Who  is  it  that  dares  to  attack  the  roaring  lion?  Why,  our  spiritual 
David  ;  He  is  not  afraid  of  the  strong  iiian  armed ;  He  has  rescued 
many  a  lamb  out  of  his  mouth,  and  brought  him  to  His  own  fold. 
Who  will  undertake  to  open  the  j^rison  door?  Our  blessed  Jesus. 
Who  will  break  asunder  the  chains  of  sin  ?  Our  dear  Eedeemer. 
This  is  the  great  design  of  His  mediatorial  work.  "  That  thou  may- 
est  say  to  the  prisoners.  Go  forth ;  to  them  that  are  in  darkness,  Show 
yourselves."  He  descended  from  heaven  to  earth  that  He  might  say 
to  the  prisoners.  Go  forth — He  lived  in  poverty  and  indigence —  He 
died  in  agony  and  shame — He  rose  from  the  dead,  bursting  asunder 
the  barriers  of  the  grave — He  trampled  upon  and  bruised  the  head 
of  the  old  serpent,  even  the  devil,  that  He  might  say  to  the  prisoners, 
Go  forth.  0  !  glorious  and  heavenly  Jesus,  say  so  this  very  moment. 
He  has  authority  to  say.  Go  forth.  The  debt  has  been  paid ;  the 
throne  of  God  is  forever  satisfied ;  death  and  hell  have  been  con- 
quered. Having  completed  these  great  and  stupendous  undertakings, 
now  He  needs  only  to  speak  from  His  throne,  in  order  to  set  the 
prisoners  at  liberty.  Blessed  Jesus !  let  us  hear  Thy  sweet  and 
all-powerful  voice.  The  prison  doors  will  obey  Thy  voice  ;  a  word 
from  Thee  will  cause  the"  iron  and  brazen  bars  of  sin  to  go  aside. 
Through  the  power  of  Thy  word  sinners  will  obtain  eternal  re- 
•demption.     Amen. 


ALPHABETICAL  INDEX  TO  TITLES  OF  DISCOURSES. 


TITLE^  PHEACHEE.  PAGB 

A  Practical  Belief  in  the  Divine  Existence  ' Maxcy     .    .    .    .  ii.  462 

Admonition  to  the  Fallen  .  ^.     .     .  * Basil i.     14 

Bearing  the  Reproach  of  Christ Calvin     ....  ii.     11 

Challenge  to  the  Papists Jewell i.  145 

Christ  all  and  ha  all Charles    .     .     .     .  ii.  584 

Christ  the  only  Way  of  Salvation    .    ' Superville     .     .    .  ii.  121 

Christ  the  Eternal  God • Athanasius  ...  i.     52 

Christ's  real  Body  not  in  the  Eucharist Wickliffe  .     .     .     .  i.  116 

Christ's  Resurrection  a  Pattern  of  our  New  Life     ....  Sclileiermacher  .     .  i.  524 

Christ's  Triumph  in  the  Resurrection Donne      ....  i.  153 

Excessive  Grief  at  the  Death  of  Friends Chrysostom  ...  i.     80 

Faith  m  Christ  the  great  Want  of  the  Soul Olin ii.  527 

Glorying  in  tlie  Cross  of  Christ ItPLaurin     .     .     .  ii.  244 

God  dwelhng  among  Men Staughton     .     .     .  ii.  504 

Man  magnified  by  the  Divine  Regard Watson    ....  i.  423 

Making  Light  of  Christ  and  Salvation Baxter     ....  i.  209 

Modem  InfideUty  Considered Hall  {Robert)    .    .  i.  362 

Obedience  the  true  Test  of  Love  to  Christ Robinson  ....  i.  349 

Oration  over  Basil  the  Great Gregory  Kazianzen  i.     6T 

Oration  over  the  Prmce  of  Conde Bossuet    ....  ii.     22 

Oration  over  Marshal  Turenne Flechier    ....  ii.     70 

Preparation  to  Consult  the  Oracles  of  God Irving ii.  336 

Seeking  another's  Wealth Kirwan    .     .     .     .  i.  585 

Sermon  of  the  Plow Latimer  ....  i.  127 

Sinners  in  the  Hands  of  an  angry  God Edwards  (Jonathan)  ii.  394 

The  Activity  of  Faith Hooker     .     .    .     .  ii.  368 

The  Barren  Fig-Tree,  or  the  Fruitless  Professor      ....  Bunyan   ....  i.  224 

The  Believer  Crucified  with  Christ Hall  (Joseph)    .     .  i.  166 

The  Christian's  Victory  over  Death Logan iL  294 

The  Compassion  of  Christ  for  weak  BoUevcrs Davies     .     .     .     .  ii.  409 

The  Creator  seen  in  the  Creations Cyril i.     60 

The  Crucifixion  of  Christ Barrow    ....  i.  263 

The  EnnobUng  Nature  of  Christianity Zollikofer ....  i.  485 

The  Expulsive  Power  of  a  New  Affection Chalmers      .     .     .  ii.  319 

The  Divinity  and  Right  Use  of  the  Scriptures Herder     ....  i.  496 

The  Duty  and  Rewards  of  Patience Tertullian      ...  i.     25 

The  Dying  Smner Rw ii.     80 


618    ALPHABETICAL  INDEX  TO  TITLES  OF  DISCOURSES. 

TITLE.  PBEACHEE.  PAGE 

The  Fall  and  Recovery  of  Man Evans ii.  595 

The  Flight  of  the  Prophetic  Angel Livingston    .     .     .  ii.  424 

The  Foohsh  Exchange ■ Taylor     ....  i.  567 

The  Form  of  GocUiness  without  its  Power ChiUingworih    .     .  i.  192 

The  Gathering  of  the  People  to  Shilofi ErsMne    .     .     .     .  ii.  229 

The  Glory  of  the  Saints  in  Heaven Carson    ....  i.  594 

The  Goal  and  the  Complaint Harms     ....  i.  534 

The  Gospel  for  the  Poor Mason ii.  486 

The  Gospel  Jubilee Jay i.  397 

The  Great  Assize Wesley     ....  i.  318 

The  Heavenly  Inheritance Summerfield      .     .  ii.  539 

The  Heavy-laden  invited  to  Christ Walker    .    .     .     .  ii.  271 

The  Hour  and  the  Event  of  all  Time Blair ii.  282 

The  Image  of  God  in  Man Soutli i.  284 

The  Imprisonment  and  Deliverance  of  Peter Foster i.  411 

The  Incarnation  of  Christ  ...         Eeinhard.     .     .    .  i.  515 

The  Jarrings  of  Heaven  Eeconoiled ,  Leland     .     .     .     .  ii.  453 

The  Joyful  Tidings  of  Salvation Mather     .     .     .     .  ii.  384 

The  Kingdom  of  Christ Griffin     ....  ii.  470 

The  Kingdom  of  God Whitfield.     .     .     .  i.  342 

The  Lord's  Prayer Cyprian  ....  i.     36 

The  Method  and  Fruits  of  Justification Lnither     ....  i.  457 

The  Mysteries  of  Christianity Vinet ii.  183 

The  Nature  and  Control  of  the  Passions Sav/rin     .     .     .     .  ii.  157 

The  One  Hundred  and  Tliirty-ninth  Psalm Edwards  {B.  B.)    .  ii.  549 

The  Passion  of  Jesus  Christ Bourdakme  .     .     .  ii.     45 

The  Prayer  of  the  Thief  on  the  Cross MCrie     .     .     .     .  ii.  302 

The  Reasonableness  of  a  Resurrection Tillotson  .    .     .    .  i.  251 

The  Redeemer's  Tears  over  Lost  Souls Sowe i.  236 

The  Responsibility  of  Man  for  his  Belief  .     • Bod ii.  568 

The  Restoring  of  Sight  to  the  Blind Augustine     ...  i.     94 

The  Sacrifice  of  Abraham Abhadie  .     .     .     .  ii.  105 

The  Saint's  Converse  with  God Fenelon   ....  ii.     96 

The  Scriptures  Superior  to  other  Manifestations      ....     Keach i.  229 

The  Security  of  God's  Children Melandhon   .     .     .  i.  474 

The  Sin  of  David  in  the  Case  of  Uriah White      ....  ii.  442 

The  Small  Number  of  the  Saved Massillon .     .     .     .  ii.  137 

The  Social  and  Unsocial  Virtues Reinhard.     ...  1.  520 

The  Source  and  Bounds  of  Kingly  Power Knox ii.  206 

The  Sublime  Issue  of  the  "Work  of  Rehgion Bedell ii.  514 

The  Temptations  of  Satan Spener     ....  i.  481 

The  Terrors  of  Conscience Atterhury     .     .     .  i.  306 

The  Three  Divine  Sisters Adams    ....  i.  179 

The  Two  Famines Elias ii  605 

The  Voices  out  of  the  Graves Theremin     .     .     ,  i.  547 

The  Yoke  Easy  and  the  Burden  Light ........     Wolfe i.  607 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  SUBJECTS  OF  DISCOURSES. 


BTJBJECT.  PBEACHEB. 

Abraham,  the  Sacrifice  of Ahhadie  , 

Admonition  to  the  Fallen Basil  . 

Affection,  Expulsive  Power  of  a  New Chalmers 

BeliefJ  Responsibility  for Dod    . 

Believer,  crucified  with  Christ Hall  {Joseph) 

Charity,  one  cf  the  three  Divine  Sisters Adams    . 

Charity,  the  Duty  and  Deficiency  of Kirwan    . 

Christ  all  and  in  all Charles    . 

Christ  giving  Sight  to  the  Blind Augustine 

Christ,  making  Light  of Baxter 

Christ  the  Eternal  God Athanasius 

Clarist  the  only  Way  of  Salvation Superville 

Christ's  Compassion  for  weak  Believers Davies     . 

Christ's  Crucifixion Barrow    . 

Christ's  Death  the  Great  Event  of  all  Time Blair  .     . 

Christ's  Incarnation Eeinhard. 

Christ's  Kjngdom Griffin     . 

Christ's  Passion Bourdaloue 

Christ's  Resurrection  a  Type  of  the  New  Life Schkiermach 

Christ's  Tears  over  Lost  Souls Howe  . 

Christ's  Triumph  in  the  Resurrection fionne 

Christ's  Yoke  Easy  and  His  Burden  Light Wolfe  . 

Christianity,  ennobling  Nature  of Zollikofer 

Christianity,  Mysteries  of Vinet  . 

Condescension,  the  Divine Staughton 

Conscience,  the  Terrors  of Atterhury 

Cross,  glorying  in  the WLaurin 

David,  his  Sin  in  the  Case  of  Uriah White 

Death,  excessive  Grief  at  the  of  Friends Chrysostom 

Death,  the  Christian's  Triumph  over Logan .    . 

Eucharist,  the  real  Body  of  Christ  not  in  the Wickliffe  . 

Faith,  activity  of Hooker     . 

Faith,  one  of  the  three  Divine  Sisters Adam^    . 

Faith,  the  great  Want  of  the  Soul Olin    .     . 

Fall  and  Recovery  of  Man Evaris .     . 

Families,  the  Two Elias  .    . 

Fig-Tree,  the  Barren,  or  Fruitless  Professor Bunyan   . 

Glorying  in  the  Cross  of  Christ JiTLaurin 

Goal,  the  Christian's Harms     . 

God  dwelling  among  Men Staughton 

God,  existence  of Maxcy      . 

Godliness,  the  Form  of  without  its  Power Chillingworth 


PAGE 

ii.  105 
i.  74 
ii.  319 
ii.  568 
i.  166 
i.  179 
I  585 
ii.  584 
i.  94 
i.  209 
i.  52 
ii.  121 
ii.  409 
i.  263 
ii.  282 
i.  515 
ii.  470 
ii.  45 
i.  524 
i,  236 
i.  153 
i.  607 
i.  485 
ii.  183 
ii.  504 
i.  306 
ii.  244 
ii.  442 
i.  80 
ii.  294 
i.  116 
ii.  368 
i.  179 
ii.  527 
u.  595 
ii.  605 
i.  224 
ii.  224 
i.  534 
ii.  504 
ii.  462 
i.  192 


620       GENERAL  INDEX  TO  SUBJECTS  OF  DISCOURSES. 

SUBJECT.  PKEACHER.  PAGE 

Gospel,  flight  of  Angel  with Livingston    .     .     .  ii.  424 

Gospel,  for  the  Poor Mason ii.  486 

Graves,  the  Voices  out  of Theremin      .     .     .  i.  547 

Heaven,  its  happiness Bedell ,     .    .    ,     .  ii.  514 

Heaven,  Jarrings  of  Reconciled  by  Christ Leiand     .     .     .     .  ii.  453 

Heaven,  the  Glory  of  the  Saints  in Carson    ....  i.  594 

Heaven,  the  Inheritance  of  the  Saints Summerfield     .    .  ii.  539 

Heavy-laden  invited  to  Christ Walker    .     .     .    .  ii.  271 

Hope,  one  of  the  three  Divine  Sisters Adams    .     .     .     .  i.  179 

Infidelity,  Modern Hall  (Robert)    .     .  i.  362 

Jubilee,  the  Gospel Jay i  397 

Judgment,  the  Final Wesley     ....  i.  318 

Justification,  the  Method  and  Fruits  of I/ixtker     ....  i.  457 

Kingdom  of  Clirist Griffin     .     .     .     .  ii.  470 

Kingdom  of  God Whitfield.     .     .     .  i.  342 

Kmgs,  the  Source  and  Limits  of  their  Power Knox ii.  206 

Man,  made  in  God's  Image South i.  284 

Man  magnified  by  God's  Regard Watson    ....  i.  423 

Mysteries  of  Christianity Yinet ii.  183 

Obedience  the  Test  of  Piety Robinson  ....  i.  349 

Oracles  of  God,  preparation  to  Consult  the Irving ii.  336 

Oration  over  Basil  the  Great Gregory  Nazianzen  i.     67 

Oration  over  the  Prince  of  Condc Bossuet    ....  ii.     22 

Oration  over  Marshal  Turenne Flechier    ....  ii.     70 

Papists,  Challenge  to Jewell i.  145 

Patience,  Duty  and  Rewards  of TertulMan      ...  i.     25 

Passions,  their  Xature  and  Control Saurin     .     .    .     .  ii.  157 

Peter,  his  Imprisonment  and  Dehverance Foster i.  411 

Plow,  Sermon  of  the Latimer  ....  i.  127 

Prayer  of  the  Thief  on  the  Cross JiTCrie     ....  iL  302 

Prayer,  the  Duty  and  Manner  of Fenelon   ....  ii.     96 

Prayer,  the  Lord's Cyprian  ....  i.     36 

Psalms,  the  Book  ofj  and  how  to  read Edwards  {B.  B.)    .  ii.  459 

Rehgion,  the  Sublime  End  of  its  Work BedeU ii.  514 

Resurrection,  Reasonableness  of  a Tillotson  ....  i.  251 

Resurrection,  Christ's  Triumph  in  the Bonne      .    .     .     .  i.  153 

Resurrection,  Christ's  a  Type  of  the  New  Life Schleiermacher .    .  i.  524 

Saints,  their  Security Melandhon    .     .     .  i.  474 

Salvation,  the  glad  Sound  of Mather     .     .     .     .  ii. '384 

Satan,  his  Temptations Spener     ....  i.  481 

Saved,  the  Small  Number  of Massillon .     .     .     .  ii.  137 

Scriptures,  Divuiity  and  Right  Use  of Herder     ....  L  496 

Scriptures,  how  to  Study  them Irving ii.  336 

Scriptures,  Superior  to  other  Spiritual  Manifestations  .     .     .     Keach i.  229 

Sinner,  the  dyiog Rue ii.     80 

Sinners,  in  the  Hands  of  an  angry  God Edwards  {Jonathan)  ii.  394 

Shiloh,  the  Gathering  of  the  People  to      ...;...  ErsJcine    .     .     .     .  ii.  229 

Soul,  the  Folly  of  its  Exchange Taylor     ....  i.  567 

Souls,  the  Lost,  Christ  weeping  over Howe 1.  236 

Virtues,  the  Social  and  Unsocial Reinhard.    .     .    .  i.  520 


INDEX  TO  TEXTS  OF  DISCOURSES. 


BOOK.  PEEACHEK.  PAGE 

Genesis, 

i.  27 South i.  284 

xxii.  10 Abbadie ii.  105 

xlix.  10 Erskine ii.  229 


Leviticus, 
XXV.  10 Jay. 


.i.  397 


Deuteronomy, 
xxxii.  35 Edwards  (JoN.)..ii.  394 

Judges, 

vi.  12,  14,  16.  ..BOSSUET ii.     22 


2  Samuel, 
xii.  1 "White. 


.ii.  442 


1  Kings, 
viii.  27 Staughton ii.  514 


Nehemiah, 
vi.  3.... 


.Bedell  , 


.ii.  516 


Job, 

vii.  17 "Watson ii  423 

xxxviii.  23 Cyril i.  60 

Psalms, 

viii.  5 Zollikofer i.  485 

xlv.  7,  8 Athanasius i.  52 

Ixxxix.  15 Mather ii.  384 

cxxxix.  1-24.. Edwards  (B.B.),ii.  649 


Proverbs, 
xiv.  12 Dod. 


.ii.  560 


Isaiah, 

xxvi.  13-16 Knox ii.  206 


Jeremiah, 
ix.  1.... 


.Basil i.     74 


1  Maccabees, 
ix Flechieb. 


70 


BOOK.  PBEACHEK.  PAGE 

Matthew, 

iv.  3 Spener i.  4S1 

vi.  9  Cyprian i.    36 

xi.  28 "Walker ii.  271 

xi.  30 "Wolfe i.  607 

xii.  20 Da  vies ii.  409 

xiv.  1-3 Atterbuky i.  306 

xvi.  26 Taylor i.  567 

XX.  30-34 Augustine i.    94 

xxii.  5 Baxter i.  209 

xxvi.  26 "WiCKLIFFE i.    116 

xxvii.  61 Theremin i.  547 

Luke, 

i.  80 Reinhard i.  515 

ii.  1-14 Reinhard i.  520 

iv.  27 Massillon ii.  137 

vii.  12 Rue ii.     80 

vii.  22 Mason ii.  486 

xlii.  8,  9 BUNYAN i.  224 

xvi.  31 Keach i.  299 

xix.  41,  42 Howe i.  237 

xxiii.  27,28 Bourdaloue ii.    45 

xxiii.  32 M'Crie ii.  302 

John, 

V.  39 Irving ii.  336 

X.  28 Melancthon i.  474 

xiv.  1 Olin ii.     77 

xiv.  6 Superville ii.  121 

xiv.  15 Robinson i.  349 

xvii.  1 Blair ii.  282 

Acts, 

ii.  36 ..Donne i.  153 

xii.  1-11 Foster i.  411 

xxvi.  8 Tillotson L  251 

Romans, 

i.  20 Maxcy ii.  462 

iv.  12 Hooker ii.  368 

V.  15 Evans ii.    59 

vi.  4-8 Schleiermacher.L  524 


622 


INDEX    TO    TEXTS  OF  DISCOURSES. 


BOOK.  PREACHER.  PAGE 

Romans  (continued), 

viii.  18 Carson i.  594 

X.  18 Greg.  Nazianzen  i.  67 

xiv.  10 "Wesley i.  318 

xiv.  17 "Whitfield i.  342 

XV.  4 Latimer i.  127 

XV.  4-13 Herder i.  496 

1  Corinthians, 

I  23 Barro-w i.  264 

ii.  9 "\riNET ii.  183 

X.  24 KiRWAN i.  585 

xL  23 Jewell i.  145 

xiii.  13 Adams i.  179 

XV.  55-57 Logan ii.  294 

Gal  ATI  A  Ns, 

ii.  20 Hall  (Joseph) i.  166 

iv.  1-7 Luther i.  457 

iv.  14 M'Laurin ii.  244 

Ephesians, 
ii.  12 Hall  (Robert).  ..i.  362 

Philippians, 

iii.  12-14 Harms i.  534 


BOOK.  PEEACHER.  PAGE 

COLOSSIANS  (continued), 

i.  20 Leland ii.  453 

iii.  11 Charles ii.  584 


Colossi  ANs, 
i.  16 Geiffin 


.ii.  470 


1  Thessalonians, 

iv.  13 Chrtsostom i.     80 

V.  17 Fenelon ii.     96 

2  Timothy, 

iii.  1-5 Chillingworth  .  .i.  192 

Hebrews, 

xiii.  13 Calvin ii.     H 

James, 

i.  4 Tertullian i.     25 

1  Peter, 

ii.  1 Satjrln ii.  157 

2  Peter, 

i.  11 SUMMERFIELD ii.   539 

1  John, 

ii.  15 Chalmers ii.  319 

V.  19 Elias ii.  605 

Revelations, 
xiv.  6,  7 Livingston ii.  425 


THE  END. 


